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Junk Worship

by Jak Locke

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1.
Everybody knows where the ladies are at this time of night They all with me baby. Oh Just leave me alone Limousine Come on get away from the Boing Just shut up and shoot everyone I love my toilet paper Yeah sexual anarchy Oh no no no no no no uh huh Four big red cuts from here to here, I mean clear through the skin, bleeding profusely. That cat's sitting there looking at him like, "just try it again you son of a bitch" I have no head. I am a reject. I have no head. I look hilarious. My brain is a broken basket of water. Kill everything. Kill everything. To your weapons, attack, fire, destroy the buildings, kill them all, everyone, kill them, destroy everything do not leave a single stinking person, on my mark drop the bombs kill everything I love you. Kill everything. I love you. Kill everything.
2.
My head fell off The fire engine's screaming all down St. Mary Street I'm drunk and wasted once again, I got no one to meet Sidewalk prophecies on the wall The sun ain't good for nothing with all that smoke in its face She left her clothes here, she'll be back at my place Sometime soon, maybe next fall I broke all the windows (yeah boy) now the wind won't go away (so cold) Got a Vegas streak in me (yeah boy) but no one left to play (I lit a match) It's quiet now I can even hear the mold in her closet (girl needs to clean that, it's filthy) I can drop five figures (yeah boy) in less than a week (uh huh) I can live it up downtown (watch me livin it up boys) where the floor don't creak (nah, the floor's made of linoleum) Ain't no money to make no deposit (I don't even know where the bank at son) Took the bus to your place, hoped to find you here (girl, where you at) So many problems, not enough beer (it's on fire now) And I had nothing better to do than stand up right here play guitar and sing to you (but this'll do) Dirk, hey Dirk, hey Dirk, hey Dirk
3.
Independent aluminum can collection specialist Trucking down the sidewalk with a broken shopping cart Defiant faces loving misery in the afternoon mornings In the faux ghost town where living's a lost art Suckin down dust and fumes of mass fabricated soma In the television billboard with legs model citizen parade Emaciated jawless wolves, self-worth guided by the words on their pants Hybrid grocery store display of the tie-sporting disposable bolt Thrift store rejects mashing the mattress and slacking their soul away Throwback losers chewing the gristle of history for any reason to revolt Sad sack zoo cage microcosm euphemism To sell off living to the closest bidder for the sake of existing Redundant crapped out terrariums of burnt out cast off cronies Where the autocratic status quo isn't even worth resisting, yeah! Throwrugs think they got it made Ruling over kingdoms of shit below them Never tell them that the pressure that they feel's not from any big decisions Just from things that pass above them on their way to somewhere better Come on!
4.
Leave behind your troubled days and tie your cares behind Tin can ashtrays on the floor, fifth time hitting rewind There's a naked man in the corner and a film crew passing by Emasculating trees and white rocks that you taught to fly Chest pains, dead brains, lost gains Half the periodic table running through my veins Plastic cups tipped over, bad story of the week Statutory cradle thief, a purple ink leak Billiard solitaire solo hermit all past his prime Broken windows in the dorm, ain't no one gonna confess the crime Chest pains, dead brains, lost gains Half the periodic table running through my veins Uh huh Killin time with a can of gas, a minimalist arsonist Knives and phony guides to life, a rubber woman's kiss A cheap facade, a jaw machine, a goddess of the fake Virtual stupidity, a bone that you can't break Chest pains, dead brains, lost gains Half the periodic table running through my veins
5.
Check, check one, check one two Mic mic check, check one, check one two Sheddin sweat bullets like a sawed-off gun Flyin off walls in a room of one Peeling off plaster from my ceiling fan With a toothpick wound in the middle of my hand Limp wet dollar laying down in a glass With a filter smokin killer jumpin on my ass Broken record rockin from five to nine With a burnt-out jimmy workin for the wine Semaphore junkies waving plastic flags Wake of confusion in my sleepin bag Blue dye running down the side of his face Well I want a whiskey sour with a shot of mace Corporate disco on the side of the street Dusty gray bones looking for the meat Salivate your life on the side of the ditches While your Frankenstein monster's pickin at his stitches Fisherman's net caught up in a draft Suicidal monkey hangin on the raft Detrimental can in the back of a truck Where you ask for directions and you're out of luck Silver tongued artist with the tarnish blues Road hockey hitcher with nothing to lose A cremated man in a brown ashtray You can't hit a note when you try to play Downin my coffee like there's no tomorrow Sittin in a joint with the temporary sorrow Semaphore lover in my distant past Smokin joes takin blows to my fixated ass With the hippie lifestyle callin both my names Chain smokin chasers with no one to blame Tablecloth's messing with my black ink flow Like the watery coffee and the ashtray low I'm givin my lemons to my drummer's girl Thinkin of my seventeen different worlds Tall blond waitress with the paycheck blues Fightin back time on a midnight cruise Two stoned losers on my friendship list When you find love they get all pissed Example of timing evident at the diner One-time shot on the laid-off headliner Workin class stiffs two tables away Livin for the paycheck and never for the day It's a shame for a person to be so stuck My future's playin songs in the back of a truck I'm throwin out numbers of the local bars Phone book junkies who don't want to be stars Stars are too common and come out too soon I make my wishes on a bright blue moon
6.
Avast! The starlight tapestry shines like gin on a plaintive and vague recall Out in a lover's mask and cape nobody can see me at all The rainfall brought some vacancy to the devil's porch where it strolls Even the railmen are gone but their graves are black and empty holes Everything's a worthless sham Nobody gives a damn Plastic heads on paper dolls I can't wait to see them fall You can feel it in the rust on the cemetery gate Down in the junkyard you can tell when it's too late A strange town that I walk now and strangers are all that's left to see Everything has killed itself and now nothing is left but me Here today and gone by noon Sucking on the silver spoon Verbal masturbation rites See your name in shattered lights But even that's a memory as I walk until I'm gone Tomorrow's just another day to keep dying and dying on Zero, loser, reject, tool (Dying and dying on) One more drip inside the pool (Dying and dying on) Phony prima fucker fare (Dying and dying on) Not me, I'm going straight nowhere Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha (Dying) Ah ha ha ha ha
7.
Junkies of the nightlife cocaine habit midwife Cut me with a butterknife it feels so good Whip me chain me down right just like Friday night My place in the red light the red light zone Steamshovel lover massive breakin it down Maximum intensity since I hit the town She got the piledriver mojo slammin hard like a truck Kickin basses in the faces of the ignorant bucks Fall apart like a house of cards under the mower Layin on the devils roof now I'm bound to get lower My crackpipe honey come and blowin my mind Eatin glass burnin gas now I'll never unwind Don't call me cuz I'm gone got my leisure suit on Got a list of girls that I'll be takin home Ladies scopin my scene in the limousine Roll the drivers window and go all night long Drownin in a fountain huffin paint in a can Got the highway 90 blues like a nail in the hand I wanna hang from the ceiling with my two arms free With the garbage on the floor as far as I can see And yeah I'm down to the rhythm of a trashcan riff Beer keg juggernaut come give me a lift Killin all the time makin chemical love All kinda bad luck from below and above My sweet seductive mistress I never seen you like this Let's go down the hall and meet some friends of mine That's not the direction of my record collection If you'll be like that I got more just like you Killer scenes and acid blue roadkill Psychopath lawn man junkin the pills Down the socket and into your brain Lock and load slugs into Abel and Cain I'm a twist top wino with the drum machine blues Suckin on the devil getting down to the news Slide bass guitar power junkyard singer Bury my body with the telephone ringer It don't matter if I put my hand on your thigh Sit up on my lap and tell me what's your name I am the lovemaster lay you down like plaster Bang like a disaster in the city street Come on! Get down! Molotov cocktail this party! Come on! Get down! Light this sucker up! Come on! Get down! Molotov cocktail this party! Come on! Get down! Light this sucker up!
8.
The doors are broken and mosquitoes comin in I'm layin round got the mattress blues again Cable modem and a broken VCR Kids are boxing on a rusted out old car Ain't much to say Ain't much to do today Commercial vacuum and a Crown Victoria Eighty bucks and plastic euphoria Kickin cans in bags so bored you're keeping score Takin time like you could come back for some more Ain't much to say Ain't much to do today Stoned and drunk and wired and blowed and wide awake Tomorrow's one more free donation you can take Blowin smoke into the rising morning's face Don't know what's happening but I've already set my pace Ain't much to say Ain't much to do today Ain't much to say Ain't much to do today
9.
Hey! Oh yeah oh yeah Breakin it down, you went and dropped all your baggage so you come around and blame it on me You preachin all manner of screamin to the world but it's cacophony You go do your thing, I'll do mine Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah oh yeah There ain't truth in your mouth or even in your head I think I'll leave you far away and go do my own thing instead You go do your thing I'll do mine You say I'm lying and that's fine, so forget the rest Don't matter that I'm tellin the truth Forget the truth, pick the lies you like the best I'll go do my thing I'll do fine You wanna try me? Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah There ain't truth in your mouth or even your head I think I'll leave you far away and do my thing instead Don't wait til you're bored and you wish you did, oh yeah You go do your thing, I'll do mine My thing, I'll do fine I'll do fine, I'll do fine, I'll do fine, I'll do fine, yeah, yeah, yeah Come on, come on rock this like a mountain! That's right
10.
Idols made of wax, pretentious to the max Crankshaft people walking down the waves Immaculate mockeries, plugged-in sonic factories Archived like there's something worth to save A carnival of cliques Who wants to be like yesterday's pick Waste of space religions rotting in the kitchen Complacent dirges best in semaphore A festival of rejects, recycled dope and cold sex Back to the dry wells to tap some more A carnival of cliques An audience of stones and bricks Amplified distortions, completely lame proportions You watch them all voraciously depart You can see it in the sewer, in the piles of manure Put a nail through crap and call it art A carnival of cliques Leave me be I'm feeling generic
11.
Junk it like a pile of metal Junk it while the fallout starts to settle Fire it up like a blunt Junk that shit and burn the apartment Junk it! Junk it! Wax that shit like a piece of fruit Hit me up while I'm in the mood Push that car way down the street Junk that shit like a man in heat Junk it! Junk it! Pushing all the right buttons tonight Junk that shit right outta sight Junk it Jimmie Walker jaw style Junk that shit like a WAV file Junk it! Break your teeth on a bent up flute Junk it like a man in a wino suit Junk it down and don't know why Junk this shit, let's all get high Junk it! Junk it! Junk it!
12.
Junk Worship will be right back after these messages Stick me deep with the interest rate I.V. Tall tales flying on a Wall Street scenery Fixed fat slob taking treasury tokes With the corporate additives making him choke Got a paper box with a hundred rubber checks With the pole in a hole of degenerate wrecks Five figure debts from desk learning for days Learning useless facts about the American way One more empty, to the breadline he goes While the bossman's money's going straight up his nose Application hand cramp futility rights While the tax man's keeping everyone in his sights Walking around in the burning cold Fresh out of grad school and already old Dancing the sewer with a lice filled comb In the yellow light district that I call my home Find your job in a garden of clover Seven figures on your plastic hangover Drowning in the liquid of the dollar's weight In a backwash of the loan percentage interest rates Seven slots in a roll of twenty-four Ink on the statement is rotten to the core Living it up with a gun to your head With your last sleeping hole in the equity dead And the trails will choke the names of them who hang their heads in shame The martyrs with their poison runnin through ya And we'll be glowing in the sight of your foundations burning bright With our torches, shouting hallelujah
13.
Zero (0) 03:59
I sleep on someone else's floor Hinges all rusted on the two tone door Paint chips and exposed wiring Better get used to it, nobody's hiring Lost track how long it's been since I did the laundry Lost track how long it's been since I took a shower Lost track how long it's been since I had something to eat I know how much I smoke though Drinkin hard and starin out the window Nothing better for me to do than to watch the trees grow I'm stomping up and down the empty halls Going crosseyed staring at the walls Lost track how long it's been since I did the laundry Lost track how long it's been since I took a shower Lost track how long it's been since I had something to eat I know how much I smoke though Well I just might get the urge to clean this place up Some time maybe tonight or maybe next year And I just might get the urge to find myself Something to eat, then again I just might stay right here Leafblowers and lawnmowers singing tunes to my head Aluminum gascans, aluminum sheds Jump out the shower do what you can Let me be told that I'm all that I am Lost track how long it's been since I did the laundry Lost track how long it's been since I took a shower Lost track how long it's been since I had something to eat I know how much I smoke though Lost track how long it's been Lost track how long it's been Lost track how long it's been I know how much I smoke though
14.
Suckin down dust Suckin down dust I'm a dustmop jockey and that's all I am I'm a dusted out junkie I don't give a damn I'm down to the rhythm of a trash can riff I'm down to the rhythm of a trash can riff I'm a dustmop jockey and that's all I am I'm a dustmop jockey I don't give a damn I'm down to the rhythm of a trash can riff Down to the rhythm of a trash can riff Suckin down dust and nothin comin from the dirge machine Suckin down dust ain't nothin comin from the dirge machine

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released September 12, 2003

album art by scott fremin

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Jak Locke New Orleans, Louisiana

Jak Locke is a multi-genre songwriter and performer based in and native to New Orleans, LA.

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