01. MARCH OF THE LOCUSTS
The locust marches on like a pack of troubled teens headed for the mall. On and on and on and on. The hungry hyenas wanting more and more and more and more. This ship has been sinking since it left shore.

When all this is over and the locusts are gone.
More locusts will come, more locusts will come.
When all this is over the vultures have won.
Eloquence is silver, violence is gold.

We’re dying for a living and our sun-starved hearts are bleeding pink noise. Our hands are swollen, our sleeves are wet, and vultures with laser beaks are carving their initials into our brittle, brittle bones. Locusts with scorpion tales and human phases will devour our only source of light.
Five months have been five years. And five years for a locust is a lifetime for man. Where is the sun now? We’re running out of light. Where is the sun now? This ends tonight!

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah, one more time for the death row!

We build catacombs with complicated lies.
Catacombs for catastrophic light.
Cutting and swarming and eating the sun.
A rape by any other name…

When all this is over and the locusts are gone.
More locusts will come, more locusts will come.
When all this is over the vultures have won.
Eloquence is silver, violence is gold.

02. SMASH THE CRYSTAL LARYNX!
This ship has been sinking since it left shore!

Stitches. Eyelids.

This room is filled with narcissistic bats in perpetual motion.
The windows are nailed shut, have been for seven nights.
Guarded by vultures on the window pane. TV gives us light.

This syringe is being filled with narcoleptic sharks. They find their way through our bloodstream, and finally eat our hearts.

Just ‘cause you don’t scratch it doesn’t mean it doesn’t itch.

This wall-to-wall carpet is covered with broken glass. And we’re dancing barefoot to the beat of our past. Behind two-way mirrors they’re watching us fight over who gets which thread first. And we’re dancing barefoot on the glass.

Let’s tear this room apart.
Come see the other side.

03. VULTURE CULTURE
Vulture, flap your wings.

04. YOU CAN'T HUG YOUR CHILDREN WITH NUCLEAR ARMS
What’s that noise?
I don’t know but it sounds just like a swarm.
Could this be another splinter in the paw?
Could it be that this has happened before?

What’s that noise?
I don’t know but it’s a noise I’ve heard before.
Could it be that we’re the splinter, not the paw?
Could it be that we have done this before?

What’s that noise?
It’s the appendix of the bats inside their throat.
This is what happens when you leave them with no choice, no rights, no vocal cords. This is what happens when vultures take control. Wake up! A burning book is a book best forgotten. You won’t get paper cuts out of cotton. Self-righteous and self-employed. She sits in the shadows with her pens and her swords.

Out of the sky comes a cloud of broken glass. It cuts through our eyes like stiletto dust. Pillagers, scavengers, money-ridden swarms. Axioms carved under see-through skin. No conscience, no consequence. Vultures dressed in corporate grins numb us back to sleep.

Wake up!
Every action has a re-action.
The comatose librarian sits at the table burning her old books word for word.
She’s got a pen filled with our blood, and she’s writing her own books word for word.
Not a word, not a word.

And out of the sky comes a cloud of broken glass.
It cuts through our eyes like stiletto dust.
Pillagers, scavengers, money-ridden swarms.
Vultures dressed in corporate grins numb us back to sleep.
Out of the sky comes a cloud of broken glass.

What’s that noise?
It’s the appendix of the bats inside their throat.
This is what happens when you leave us with no choice, no rights, no vocal cords. This ship has been sinking since it left shore!

You can sell all your children, they’ll travel the world.
Make your own truth and swallow it whole.
You can trademark affection, Xerox your soul.
The only thing you’ll never know is love.