The Desert Fox

I've come to realize that my main priority right now
is to reclaim the concept of the tourist.
See, lately I've been spending all of my free time
with Teddy Roosevelt, Chuck Yeagar and General Patton.
I've met Stonewall Jackson, but we haven't gotten close yet.

When you live in the desert, there is no way out but forward.
Directions lose their purpose
and stars become only a tantalizing hope of salvation.
There is no salvation in the desert,
so the tanks have to carry on,
pushing through the sand until the treads fall off.
Only then can you learn how to use your feet.

See, the thing is, if you destroy enough lives
people will learn to love you unconditionally.
Endurance is found through the destruction of living tissue.
Muscles regenerate, but the heart fails.
And when it does fail, there is no salvation.

I am an inventor.
I did not create the human experience,
but I invented my own.

So go ahead and protect yourself woman,
your brand of salvation is the kind that
forsakes the ones that loved you the most.
Little do you understand, we're destined to have the same fate-
we're all going to return to the ground one day.
Some will do so sooner than others.

Except your heart pumps oil.
The thick black kind that lubricates
the pistons of legacy.
A sick kind of churning happens inside.

I can push my legs far past failure
and then my inner nature comes out.
When I'm climbing a hill,
it's like I'm a mountain lion looking for shelter.
But there is no such thing.
It's just men with rifles that go home
to women who go about their business
of saving the children.
Except it's not about the children.
No, in fact is has nothing to do with discovering yourself
and everything to do with consuming.

She was handed a life that was not her own
and became convinced that she was saving the world.
And although she may seem as steady and stiff as a tree,
one day she will fall like the rest.
Nature is a destructive creature,
and only through death can there be new life.

When you look into your child's eyes for the first time,
think about me and those that you've forsaken
and know that this child is not as pure as you think you may be.
The only pure thing is gold and silver,
so you wear it on your finger
to remind yourself of a love that you may easily forget.
If you haven't forgotten it by now,
you surely will when you're ten feet under ground.

The best thing to do is to chop down all the trees
so that your baby has nothing left to breathe.
You'll set them all on fire,
convincing yourself that you're making room
for your next new love.
There will be nothing left but ash and smoke,
there always is.
And we'll give you a name that's fitting,
for where there is fire, there is Ash.

It's people like you who are destroying the earth,
for your love is a poisonous secretion.
And the acid your body produces
will cause your lover's heart to fail.
It's ok, because at the end of the day
we're just a bag of bones who have fallen asleep
dreaming of better things...

So instead, I call to tell you that I am trying
to create and construct, yet
your agenda is only to destruct.

And I hope I never see you again,
because I'll be on tour in the mountains and desert
discovering why I could never belong on your earth.

conclusions, grand finales, illusions of love and the ultimate distraction

She told me that I shouldn't swear so much at women.

I feel that it's my obligation to be an equal opportunity

supplier of great conversation.

I used to love my instrument,

I spent every day with it honing my skill.

It let me down over time and I decided

to try and love a girl.

She pulled something out of me

that my guitar never could.

It was something so hopeless and desperate,

there's not really a way of explaining it

without a smile on your face.

But I ride my bike to work

and show up like nothing ever happened.

One week, two weeks, three, four, five and so forth.

Slowly but surely slipping into a real insanity.

The kind that only living dead men know.

So instead, I hope for a car crash.

She's a business woman, like her father.

If the deal goes bad, she knows how to handle it.

One bad transaction after another.

She is also a master of natural selection.

Constantly becoming involved.

So she "protects herself" by killing the only love I knew.

She always said suicide was selfish,

that you'd only be hurting those around you.

The mourning I know is of a love
that has been permanently terminated

but the only one who is hurting around her is me.

There's a reason why women in general do not commit such an act.

They're in the business of selecting.

One cigarette left, it's my lucky day.

She said her love was never ending.

It was a hoax and I bought it.

One bad transaction after another.

So what's in it for me she would probably ask?

The ultimate distraction, the grand finale.

I clearly have many illusions about love.

She had a plan for me before we met.

She knew she was going to catch me in her web.

She's not afraid to admit that she's a great catch.

So she returns to previous lovers,

constantly planning something that she only knows,

in hopes that maybe one day her planning pays off.

Transaction after transaction.

There's no time to hesitate, she's got people to see.

She's got never ending love to spread around to others.

Except myself.

There is no conclusion but distractions.

One bad distraction after another,

until you find the ultimate distraction.

What is it you may ask?

Is it closing down the business?

Tearing down the shop?

She's a business woman,

always with a plan.

If the deal goes bad, she's always prepared for the next.

One bad transaction after another.