Michael Merenda: Listen

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• MP3 play whole song, lo-fi (modem)

Dead Feathers

Dead feathers and asparagus charms
Over flow my yard
Single moms with their second hand lives
Are livin’ off their credit cards

Parasites, red, white and blue
Have hi-jacked my alarms
And no one comes to rescue you
Just a fool with broken arms

Nothin makes it any easier
And no one knows the reason for
or who’s in charge

Seven soldiers, seven smoking guns
And seven false reports
While the men in charge are making out
Like bandits in their boxer shorts

Songs they flicker through the air and die
But not before they live
The prostitute she knows she’s in for life
She’s got nothin to figive

Nothin makes it any easier
And no one knows the reason for
and never did

Kiss my ass, you SOB
I love to say those words
To the evil corporatocracy
Profiteering off fried birds

Still lookin for that nicotine-free-cigarette
That tobacco tastes so good
Phillip Morris, he ain’t thought of that yet
He wouldn’t do it if he could

Nothin makes it any easier
And no one knows the reason for
And never should