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Featured Post

Restored Republic via a GCR: Special Report as of March 8, 2021

Special Restored Republic via a GCR Report as of Mon. 8 March 2021 Compiled by Judy Byington, MSW, LCSW, Therapist ret, Journalist, Author...

Monday, February 22, 2021

"Tonight's Word: Tough Crowd" - Heisenberg - 2.22.21

Entry Submitted by Heisenberg at 8:04 AM EST on February 22, 2021

You never want a serious crisis to go to waste. And what I mean by that is an opportunity to do things that you think you could not do before - Rahm Emanuel, EX - U.S. congressman

I shouldn't be here 'cause I should be dead
I can see the lights in front of me
I believe my best days are ahead
I can see the lights in front of me
Oh, Jesus if I'm still your friend
What the hell you got for me?
I gotta get out from under my bed
I can see again the lights in front of me
I've been waiting to get home a long time – Lights Of Home

Little Boy Blue…Hey, he needed the money – Dice

Watch out for Charlie up in the trees… - Cartman

Dressing like your sister
Living like a tart
If you don’t know what you’re doing
Babe… it must be art… - Hold Me Thrill Me Kiss Me Kill Me

When I was a kid I got no respect. My mother breast fed me through a straw…
I was so poor growing up - if I wasn't a boy - I'd have had nothing to play with…
We sleep in separate rooms, we have dinner apart, we take separate vacations. We're doing everything we can to keep our marriage together…
With my doctor, I don't get no respect. I told him I want a vasectomy. He said with a face like mine, I don't need one…
My mother never breast-fed me. She told me she liked me as a friend…
I don't get no respect, no respect at all! – Rodney Dangerfield

Wonder Woman
Wonder Woman
All the world's waiting for you
And the power you possess
In your satin tights,
Fighting for your rights
And the old Red, White and Blue – Wonder Woman

Why so serious? – Joker

And that brings us to tonight’s word: TOUGH CROWD

Mr. Martin you’re on… Mr. Heisenberg you’re on deck… Mr. Kinison you’re in the hole… that’s what she said. He would have loved that joke…

Oh dear Master Jedi Christ Jesus 40 miles above my head, how on flat earth am I going to follow that bit? I’m not a prop comic. Here goes nuttin…

Give it up for Steve Martin everybody. That joy that man brought tens of millions throughout the decades should be counted for something. Steve?... Steve?... Steve?...

It’s great to be back in the Hee Heespot. It’s been a long time since I’ve been this way. It was a miracle just to find the place. There’s no road map. Take a couple lefts… take a couple rights. Head north. All the way north. Pavement turns to a gravel road. When you hit the dead end you know you’re there. Slippery when wet. Last week I did stand up at In Thru The Kraut Door in Montreal. Take off eh. Little German owned comedy club. Gay bar once a month. Now that place was easy to find. Smelled like they built it on top of a dump but nice place. Check it out next time you’re in the great white north eh…

What’s the deal will with the vrill ya? Do the low level freemasons realize they’re protecting the lizard way of life? At the expense of their fellow humans? I’m sorry sir, this isn’t an audience participation bit. Maybe try SNL once a month. But ok… what’s on your mind? You find the term “lizard” offense? You prefer to identify as “reptilian”? I’m sorry. I’m trying to be more politically correct. Those cancel culture hounds are hot on my trail. I must still be angry you people stole Brad Pitt. Did I just say “you people?” How about I call you “cobra”? I bet you like being called cobra? King of the jungle. Cobra Kai is the best thing to happen to lizards since the interior decorator at the vatican got a blank check. Cause in tin foil hat reality, you people… you vrill bills are kinda small right? And there they go headed for the door. “I didn’t pay $25 to be insulted anti-sleestack reptilist hack. That’s right I called you a hack.” Hey, you can leave anytime you want. Nobody’s tying you to a chair. Too soon?

Since you’re f**king with my acct, I gotta question for you, where do the geckos stand in your neighborhood? Are they the illegal immigrants of your hood? Do you all chase them down and beat em up in the park? Get out of my neighborhood? Get off my lawn? I grew up with a gecko he’d tell me stories about the vrill. So don’t get all righteous on us humans. Just cause you all are a small people with big ideas. Without the Godspark. You tired of getting kicked around? Getting stepped on like leprechauns? Boom. Don’t tread on me? Get it? No I’m kidding. You’re great. I understand. It’s been a hard go for the vrill. The kids just aren’t wandering into smelly caves like the old days. Can’t get them off the couch these days. How does it feel? How does it feel? All those precious stones and no where to spend them? Trying to pawn that diamond ring no one will take?

But hey, let’s call a spade a spade, you did get Brad Pitt. That’s a big win. Big trade. That’s like Brady getting going to the Bucs. Guaranteed Oscar. Should have given it to his pecs. And nobody really gives a rats a55 if he’s just a little “off” do they? A little slow. No one’s paying attention. No one is ever paying attention. That’s why they call it sleep. And let’s face it… there’s a lot of ladies out there who could care less. Those thirsty ladies who would take a little “off” if it’s wrapped in that bow. To quote the very wise Dorothy Parker, “I require three things in a man: he must be handsome, ruthless, and stupid”. Well if that’s ain’t Aldo Raine these days I don’t know what is. You know the lizards view us as lobsters and baby lobsters are the tastiest. Try the veal. Now you know how a momma cow feels. Those replicators coming soon?

And not just the ladies. I’ll bet a steak dinner, a plethora of you men out there minecrafting in front of a monitor, sitting on your a55 14 hours a day eating Cheetos in your mom’s basement would not turn down a smoking hot A list vrill Jill. Even if there’s something inhumanly odd about her manners.

Knock knock…

Who’s there?...


Thirsty who?...

Thirsty and creepy. Can I come in?... yes maam…

Well whatdoyaknow? I am a prop comic. Audience participation time. Are there any men in the audience.. or women… *approving nod* *eye roll* who would accept Ms. Kensington into your lives knowing damn well Cobra Kahn hijacked the USS Enterprise? What’s that? I pronounced her name wrong? How do you pronounce it, you limey?

So honest show of hands… who would shack up with this little 55 year old minx knowing she’s a little vrill Phyllis on the inside? You know you’re not going to be talking quantum physics. You know you’re not going to be exploring the mysteries of the universe, right? You know what this is. C’mon man. At least, that vrill knows how to hit the gym. And she’s got those Austin Power royalties coming in. Got your attention? Just gotta be ok with going to work and praying everyday she doesn’t flambe the kids for dinner. That makes for a long day, I’ll tell you what. Haters gonna hate. Playas gonna play. And vrill gonna vrill. Don’t have kids? Then what’s the problem? No problem. Unless morally your conscious becomes a pest for selling out your race for a bedazzled lizard. There you go with the “L” word again. It’s ok. I’ve got a pass. I’ve got lizard DNA in me. I can use that word. So how many would go for the Hurley brumski? That many eh? Tough crowd. Oh the humanity….

So how does it feel to cough up $25 hard earned to be entertained and get hit with the vrill light show? The body snatchers? Nana, they got you too? I guess that’s why comedians are comedians. May not be the sharpest thorn on the rosebush. May not be the most fearless hero in the galaxy… but they have conquered their fear of public speaking. Other than fear of heights, I bet that’s one of the biggest boogeymen for many. Must be that whole being-judged-by-complete-strangers things. Public acceptance is huge. Goebbels must have figured out a long time ago, humans are pack animals and thru separation and isolation, they can become a little batty. LOCO. That and a steady diet of fear and disinformation thru main stream media. You ever drink milk from a glass and leave it out all night and the next day it dries and cakes up? And you try to wash it away with cold water? Doesn’t work so you turn on the sprayer and get some hi pressure going? That doesn’t work so you call in the hot water? Piping hot? Damn that scrubber. I think that’s how the nazi view us. They know thru experience, with enough time and pressure, they can get us scum off their glasses with water. Green light another movie about a malevolent alien invasion. Drop another Katy Perry song. Mass produce Pepper Potts V jay jay candles. Divide and conquer in the ghettos. The gangs of LA will never die… just multiply. Colors. And if by chance some motor mouthed disc jockey taps into the secret truths of the universe, he’s just a speed bump. He’s milk scum. Send in the clowns. Cut the brakes. Examples must be made. Right Bateman. I am Bateman. What’s your superpower? Surviving childhood in Hollywood? Actually that’s a pretty good power. You’re my +1 to mars.

I saw something that warmed my heart the other day. Gene Decode dropping vrill bill knowledge to Ward. This guy… pound for pound the heavyweight champion of DUMB knowledge preaching about how the parasitic vrill lays proboscis pipe in the human eye and mentally takes that body over. Halleluiah!!! And Wards poker face about how this is news was priceless. Little secret? Everyone at the higher levels know about vril bill. Disclosure, rain down on me. One of the last great secrets held close to the chest are starting to get dripped out. Again, not fast enough but I will take that small victory. You wanna see some sheeple faces melt? I shouldn’t be saying this but yea… I kinda do.

It’s been a strange trip. We have crossed paths with many candles. And many red shoes. Many actors. Good and bad. More cameos than this is the end. Oh, Romeo, yeah, you know I used to have a scene with him. Like aging actors, we can now look back at our GOT WOKE career and reflect who we worked with on different projects. The Marvel Cinematic Universe is vast. The DC Universe offers a plethora of buddy comedy options. Spiderman was a true professional on set. How would you break down all those relationships? Could you? Could the great awakening possibly have relationship categories that one could count on the fingers of one hand? Ever thought about it? Wanna try?

First up… this one’s easy. This is the enemy who wants you dead. No second thoughts. Dead. If they could strip you down and place you on the crap end of a hunting party they would in a left brain heartbeat. Think f*razzledrip. Steal yo face. Curious… everyone keeps trophies, right? Old love letters. Notches in the bed post? What would you keep of old Heisenberg? The tongue? Excellent choice sir… excellent choice. Fingers? Absolutely. Those fingers have done more damage than a thousand tongues. The heart? My heart? You’d put my heart in a jar of formaldehyde on the shelf for when the other lizards come to visit? Ouch. But hey… that’s what this relationship type is. No mercy. Maybe a new pair of red shoes? That’s fair. I guess. Cause I would send them all to Gitmo in a Hell’s Kitchen minute. Quid pro quo, Clarice.

Secondly, we have the enemy on that side of no man’s land who’s heart isn’t quite in it. Maybe not quite THE enemy but still those who stand to benefit personally from Gods loss. Come to enrich their personally lives and longevity by denying others the kingdom of heaven. Oh that shame is a kicker. It’s a mad basterd. Maybe not filet the face and hand you a mirror type evil, but definitely doesn’t want an angry mob of farmers with pitchforks and torches walking in their direction. You know who you are. This relationship group is quite large. That contract most foul had so much fine print. Being born into a illuminati family was an unlucky toss of the dice. Who is A Cooper? Anderson Vanderbilt saying “You actually beLIEved that I was drinking the blood of children?” Worst… poker… face… ever...

Didn’t take long before it was in for a penny in for a pound, eh? Pretty soon it was beLIEved over 6 billion humans were going down and now it was a fight for survival. For a seat at the table under the Denver airport, wasn’t it? Where did it all go wrong? Just wanted to be the next Norma Jean and now you’re dodging vrill McGill in the hallway. I see you ducking me, Ratatouille. Got my proboscis on you, shallow Hal. So maybe you don’t really want to kill 6.5 billion innocents, but what choice do you have? Like that bald guy from midnight oil says, who’s gonna save me? And that other bald guy from Smallville song begging somebody save me. Who’s attacking all these bald guys? And who’s punching all these celebrities in the eye? So maybe if this relationship group finds a hero who’ll be your knight in shining armour, perhaps there’s change on the horizon? Riding across the desert on a fine Arab charger? Coming to your emotional rescue? Who indeed? Never saw that one coming, did you? Who will light a candle so bright, you might choose to find a way to break that contract most foul? Weather you were born into that contract, suuup Gertie?, or were seduced by Ms. Kensington all eye candy and royalty money, if you could break that contract, would you? Today? Asking for a friend. A very close friend.

The third relationship class takes us to this side of no man’s land. Those who patriots work alongside to save the world. Think I’m kidding? Think “saving the world” is an over inflated sense of self-importance talking? If America falls… AmeriKa wins. We are called not to only save our children here in the land of milk and honey, but to save children all over this flat earth. And their families. No pressure. Trust the plan. Does saving the world with no cape *cisco nodding* tend to attract inflated egos? Sure it does. It’s arguably necessary. Is that a deal breaker? Nope. Like Stan Lee says preaching from his soapbox, there’s nothing wrong if you are bugged by someone. And there’s nothing wrong with changing the channel. Like my man Pink says, there’s 50 channels of sh*t on ZOOTV to choose from. Some hero out there may put on the armour of god every morning just like you but yet something about the cut of his jib may not resonate with you. Like a Pisces trying to get with a Sagittarius. Like Guy Gardner and Hal Jordan. Deadpool and Wolverine. But before you go off halfcocked, that’s what she said, and telling someone how to run his or her own race, it might be wise to remember the following…

A: every human is cut from the same cloth as God. Meaning we are Gods in a sense. But no ego here, right? Meaning if we are all children of God with His divine DNA swimming in our blood, how can we possibly be wrong? Oh, shut your mouth. How can you say I go about things the wrong way? I am human and I need to loved. Just like everybody else does. They say we are all connected as ONE. Doesn’t feel like it sometimes, does it? Ain’t that division thing a bitch? They say when we hurt others, we are hurting ourselves. Namaste. I recently was informed that word means the God in me recognizes the God in you. I like that. I like that a lot.

B: It’s a stressful ride. And the shilly mercs aren’t making it any easier. They have to keep up the illusion. It’s all the nazi have. All Goebbels has. Like trying to do your magic act and that one jerk in the audience is telling everyone how the trick is done. It’s not magic. It’s deception. I feel so dee-cee-ved. Suddenly no one is entertained anymore. Suddenly the audience wants their money back. Suddenly they feel jipped. Suddenly they are thinking about bum rushing the stage. You think you’re stressed. Just look at the faces on all those bad acting politicians and talking heads. Not a great look. Recognize everyone is stressed but like fear, stress can be overcome. Just like fear of public speaking. Just like fear of isolation. Isolation is the gift. Enjoy the ride. A nine mile skid on a ten mile ride. Hot as a pistol but cool inside. Lean into it.

C: No matter how much one’s mannerisms bother you on this side of no man’s land, think about most arguably the greatest advice Sun Tzu could have given the average citizen digital warrior… the enemy of your enemy is your friend, Daniel San. Forget about being the blowfish. Forget about all the honeypots and infiltrating spies. Suuuup? There is strength in numbers. And the enemy has an army of assistants. So you may have had a small part with Romeo and decided you don’t really want to star in another movie. Don’t worry about a thing. But never forget a unified people is the greatest weapon a non-military citizen can brandish against a smaller numbered fascist nazi. The enemy of your enemy is your friend. No matter how bad their breath stinks. No matter how much Cringeworthy Unfunny Nonsensical Talking points they regurgitate all over the audience. That mad basterd is doing it for the kids. The children. And sometimes with enough study… you might just recognize when to get out of their way.

The fourth relationship type is fascinating. Absolutely fascinating. This relationship is as far away as the nazi who want to make a wind chime out of your typing fingers as possible. Yo Buffalo Bill… think I’d make a good lamp? Maybe not so much now. Skins getting a little aged. Sun dried. Not a big smoker but the drink is taking its toll. Someone say med beds? Yea, the old epidermis is looking a bit worse for wear, but back in the day? Back in my day? Back in the day when the brown eyed ladies said please, gentle Heisenberg, won't you come to me? I bet I would have made a great lamp. And I bet I would have the honor of being proudly displayed in Lester Burnham’s living room. Yep. I’d be THAT lamp. All you other lamps are just imitating. With a bit left over for some red shoes. I’d be THAT pair of pumped up kicks, too. But I digress.

The fourth relationship type I’ve come across are relationships with angels. There I said it. Imagine a link, a connection, a correlation, a kinship, a tie that binds in which no overinflated sense of ego or foot in mouth disease could ever be met with anything but pure love. Uncut love mainlined straight into your soul. No matter what bait you may set to test that ONE, it’s only countered with understanding, compassion and love. And old Heis should know. Been setting out bait for years. God gave me the gift of being THAT hunting dog barking up a fuss in the nazi bush. Unfortunately, sometimes that particular skill set rubs off into relationship type 3. But not type 4. Never type 4. And much to my shame I did try. Not that anyone really sets out to be a drama queen, but every now and then we all have our moments. Unintentionally or intentionally. Maybe just to see who comes to our emotional rescue. And who laughs at our pain. Who is understanding and who cuts ties. Cancel Daredevil. I guess we all do it once in a blue moon. Who are our allies? Who are going to be there when the chips are down? With their undying death-defying love for you? Envy will hurt it itself. Friend or foe?

I think I could count the type 4 compadres on ten fingers. And my wish for you is that you can as well. For these are the angels in our lives. The ones who are there for you 100%. Not 99.9%. See what I did there? I am fulling convinced they are human angels. Sorry… angels in human form. Not many human acts like that all the time. Trust me, we know. Been round the block. Not the first chili cookoff. Many… myself included… tend to strike back with my left side lizard brain. Sorry… “reptilian”. *approving nod*. It’s a knee jerk reaction. A venomous strike. These arrows. This digital violence drawn from a keyboard quiver. All in the name of God. Saving the children. Heaven on Earth. That’s funny… punching with the left side of the brain and using the right side as an excuse. It’s apparent I’m no angel. It’s hard to be a saint in the city. Harder than it looks. But it is comforting just knowing there are angels who walk among us. Behind us. In front of us. Into their arms. And if you ever feel the need to test your current relationships just to find out if a type 4 angel is amongst them, I have a word of warning for you. Tread lightly. Many are coming from years of trial and error. Testing others is a dangerous business. It’s not an overnight process. And you might not like what you find. But if you are feeling fearless, my wish for you is you find at least one angel who will stand by you regardless of your barfly thorn on a rose tendencies. And my second wish for you is that you may, with the mercy and grace of God, is to be an angel for another. 100% compassion, understanding , forgiveness and love? Forgeddaboudit.

Heisenberg, this isn’t funny. Worst standup comic ever. Shut up and make us laugh. Somewhere out there, the Dixie Chicks are laughing.

What’s the deal with cannibals? I’m looking at you Armie Hammer. You know that feeling you get when you give a pig a strip of bacon? Yea. It’s like that. Gross. Except we’re talking about humans. Soylent green is people!! Now I’m tempted to give you a warning. Maybe vrill Bill slipped you a mickey… slipped into your bed… and slipped you his proboscis. It happens. Squatters rights. Now you’re just another Cliff Booth with a standing Saturday night reservation at the Cannibal Club.

On the other side of the coin, let’s play the devil’s advocate and say you’re still human with a fondness for forbidden fruit. Is every artist a cannibal? Is that part of the illuminatzi initiation? Have a nice merlot and pork butt as you’re pledging your eternal devotion to the devil? Pork was his name. I’m outta my head. Hopelessly devoted to you. Dinner and a show? That’s human meat. The other white meat. So that would mean…. *gag* that would mean…. *hurl* you sir, have become accustomed to eating man. And woman. *approving nod* Peepeephilia aside, you… have crossed the line of grace.

But I get it. You’re just a hopeless romantic. Bet you’re a Pisces. Offering to eat the rib of your exgirlfriend Courtney? I want you to be a part of me forever. I think Romeo said that to Juliet. Forget Paris. Forget Niagara falls. This is the most romantic act I’ve ever heard of. I could just eat you up. You know there’s always that one guy on St. Valentine’s day that has to one up all the other fellas. Flowers weren’t good enough for you. Singing telegram wasn’t good enough for you. Had to go next level.

How much for one rib?...

Hey Armie… I know it doesn’t look like it after decades of Guinness and baconators, but back in the day… my meat was sweet. You think maybe someday in the future… uh… you would… you would wanna eat my rib? Oh… oh no… I get it. That was too forward. It’s ok, I’m seeing someone too. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that. Where did that even come from? I’m just such a fan boy and totally geeking out right now. I was only kidding. I joke I joke. I keed I keed. I’m not even into that kinda thing. I’m a radical nomanlander and that’s an ultra-radical nomanlander kinda thing. Kinky.

And there goes the cannibals in the audience towards the exit. “I didn’t pay $25 to have my food preferences get mocked. We are a growing community. The fighting Cains!! Oh he’s going to hear about this tomorrow on twitter. Doesn’t Heis know the term “cannibal” is highly offense to my community? We prefer to be identified as “humanitarians”.”

I used to think cannibals… sorry humanitarians *approving nod* were limited to bush tribes deep in the forests and in the Amazon. I don’t want to sound racist, buuuut… Goebbels propaganda portrayed humanitarians as *whisper*…. aborigines. But turns out… cannibals are the great grandsons of oil tycoons and *whisper*…. white kids from Santa Monica. Who’d a thunk it? You know Armie… as far as ribs go, you could do a lot worse. You may have ribs following you into the bathroom stalls and calling you up at 3 am for a quick rib let no strings, but I could be your forever rib. Your hopelessly devoted rib. Think about it. And maybe someday you could learn to love me and maybe…. maybe…. maybe….. one day you’ll let me eat one of your ribs? I know… I’m jumping ahead. But let this old man have his dreams. It’s all I have. And it’s not that I’m gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Careful with that joke. It’s an antique. Maybe you haven’t heard but I was a L word in my past life. *Did he just say he was a lizard in a past life? No I think he said he was a lesbian. Get the keys we’re leaving* Sorry ladies, but we don’t validate parking.

Where was I? Oh yea. I was bona fide lesbian back in the day. Or at least that’s what they tell me. You see, when you have a mouth like Redd Foxx, they tend to run a background check. They run a background check to work at 7-11 so why not here in the pub? I guess it was about 150 years ago. Rocking a bustier in Birkenstocks. Prolly the reason why old Heis is simpatico to the LBGTQW community. I understand how hard it can be. That’s not what she said. Give a little r e s p e c t. I was clambaking since before you were an itch in your grandpappy’s pants. Since your abuelito sent your abuelita her first valentine. Fun fact… all the way back in the day… Heisenberg coined the term “Les be friends”. Yea. That was me. That one liner was responsible for many a happy ending. You’re welcome, Lilith.

Anyone else hear the siren call of Cancun? Wanna get away? Are we still watching a movie? Don’t blame it on the kids. Ted, just admit it. Snowflake waiting behind the door? Has to be a movie. Rocking a mullet? Senor, I think you’d be more comfortable with the Gulf of Mexico crowd. For those on the right side of no mans land who see this war as only a black and white, only a Democrat vs republican war, they will perhaps feel like poor snowflake behind the screen door. Team republican took a big hit. No white washing that one. Ouch. First cocaine Mitch and now Cancun Cruz? 10 days of darkness indeed. Sorry, Ted, but those white girl at the beach cornrows are the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. Blasphemous rumours?

There’s something about comedy… when you laugh, you cannot be afraid. Laughter and fear cannot exist together. Ultimately that’s why the comedian is a dangerous arrow. And the nazi know this. It’s why big brother fills the airwaves with bad music and unfunny jokes. It’s funny cause it’s true? There’s no truth given to us by them, so how can anything they give us be funny? Cannibalism. Probably one of the most unfunny concepts ever. But it’s a truth. Therefore someone out there should grow the cajones to make it funny. And by making it funny, you’re awakening others by shining a light on a very uncomfortable true topic. Now if cannibalism ain’t your bag, baby, maybe you might want to check out Kinison’s bit on necrophilia. It’s… to die for… bwahahahahahahha.

Thank you, ladies and germs. That’s my rambling 5. Tip your waitress and try the veal.

Sam Kinison… you’re on…

Never had a wife….

Yeesh. Tough crowd.

And that’s the word



Beat on the Brat


One Step Up (MSG, NY 1988)


Thorn In My Pride

You Don't Know How It Feels

Wait For Me

Everything Counts


Games Without Frontiers

Crazy Baldhead / Running Away (Live At Rainbow Theatre, London/1977)

I'm On Fire – Town Mountain


C. Brown

Friend or Foe

Sunday Bloody Sunday

Wild Wild Life

Fortunate Son

Love Is A Cannibal

I Eat Cannibals

Cuts You Up

Blue Sky Mine

Woke up This Morning (The Sopranos Mix)

Streets of Fire (Live in Houston, 1978)

Woke Up This Morning

Lazy Eye

Re-Humanize Yourself

Are People People?

The Way

Lights Of Home

Thunder Road

Alive And Kicking


Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Bad Reputation

Mississippi Goddamn

Stand Up Comedy

Gimme Some Truth

Emotional Rescue


The Price You Pay

Save Me

Zack Snyder's Justice League Official Soundtrack | The Crew at Warpower

Tell It Like It Is

Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie

When yer head gets twisted and yer mind grows numb
When you think you're too old, too young, too smart or too dumb
When yer laggin' behind an' losin' yer pace
In a slow-motion crawl of life's busy race
No matter what yer doing if you start givin' up
If the wine don't come to the top of yer cup
If the wind's got you sideways with with one hand holdin' on
And the other starts slipping and the feeling is gone
And yer train engine fire needs a new spark to catch it
And the wood's easy findin' but yer lazy to fetch it
And yer sidewalk starts curlin' and the street gets too long
And you start walkin' backwards though you know its wrong
And lonesome comes up as down goes the day
And tomorrow's mornin' seems so far away
And you feel the reins from yer pony are slippin'
And yer rope is a-slidin' 'cause yer hands are a-drippin'
And yer sun-decked desert and evergreen valleys
Turn to broken down slums and trash-can alleys
And yer sky cries water and yer drain pipe's a-pourin'
And the lightnin's a-flashing and the thunder's a-crashin'
And the windows are rattlin' and breakin' and the roof tops a-shakin'
And yer whole world's a-slammin' and bangin'
And yer minutes of sun turn to hours of storm
And to yourself you sometimes say
"I never knew it was gonna be this way
Why didn't they tell me the day I was born"
And you start gettin' chills and yer jumping from sweat
And you're lookin' for somethin' you ain't quite found yet
And yer knee-deep in the dark water with yer hands in the air
And the whole world's a-watchin' with a window peek stare
And yer good gal leaves and she's long gone a-flying
And yer heart feels sick like fish when they're fryin'
And yer jackhammer falls from yer hand to yer feet
And you need it badly but it lays on the street
And yer bell's bangin' loudly but you can't hear its beat
And you think yer ears might a been hurt
Or yer eyes've turned filthy from the sight-blindin' dirt
And you figured you failed in yesterdays rush
When you were faked out an' fooled white facing a four flush
And all the time you were holdin' three queens
And it's makin you mad, it's makin' you mean
Like in the middle of Life magazine
Bouncin' around a pinball machine
And there's something on yer mind you wanna be saying
That somebody someplace oughta be hearin'
But it's trapped on yer tongue and sealed in yer head
And it bothers you badly when your layin' in bed
And no matter how you try you just can't say it
And yer scared to yer soul you just might forget it
And yer eyes get swimmy from the tears in yer head
And yer pillows of feathers turn to blankets of lead
And the lion's mouth opens and yer staring at his teeth
And his jaws start closin with you underneath
And yer flat on your belly with yer hands tied behind
And you wish you'd never taken that last detour sign
And you say to yourself just what am I doin'
On this road I'm walkin', on this trail I'm turnin'
On this curve I'm hanging
On this pathway I'm strolling, in the space I'm taking
In this air I'm inhaling
Am I mixed up too much, am I mixed up too hard
Why am I walking, where am I running
What am I saying, what am I knowing
On this guitar I'm playing, on this banjo I'm frailin'
On this mandolin I'm strummin', in the song I'm singin'
In the tune I'm hummin', in the words I'm writin'
In the words that I'm thinkin'
In this ocean of hours I'm all the time drinkin'
Who am I helping, what am I breaking
What am I giving, what am I taking
But you try with your whole soul best
Never to think these thoughts and never to let
Them kind of thoughts gain ground
Or make yer heart pound
But then again you know why they're around
Just waiting for a chance to slip and drop down
"Cause sometimes you hear'em when the night times comes creeping
And you fear that they might catch you a-sleeping
And you jump from yer bed, from yer last chapter of dreamin'
And you can't remember for the best of yer thinking
If that was you in the dream that was screaming
And you know that it's something special you're needin'
And you know that there's no drug that'll do for the healin'
And no liquor in the land to stop yer brain from bleeding
And you need something special
Yeah, you need something special all right
You need a fast flyin' train on a tornado track
To shoot you someplace and shoot you back
You need a cyclone wind on a stream engine howler
That's been banging and booming and blowing forever
That knows yer troubles a hundred times over
You need a Greyhound bus that don't bar no race
That won't laugh at yer looks
Your voice or your face
And by any number of bets in the book
Will be rollin' long after the bubblegum craze
You need something to open up a new door
To show you something you seen before
But overlooked a hundred times or more
You need something to open your eyes
You need something to make it known
That it's you and no one else that owns
That spot that yer standing, that space that you're sitting
That the world ain't got you beat
That it ain't got you licked
It can't get you crazy no matter how many
Times you might get kicked
You need something special all right
You need something special to give you hope
But hope's just a word
That maybe you said or maybe you heard
On some windy corner 'round a wide-angled curve

But that's what you need man, and you need it bad
And yer trouble is you know it too good
"Cause you look an' you start getting the chills

"Cause you can't find it on a dollar bill
And it ain't on Macy's window sill
And it ain't on no rich kid's road map
And it ain't in no fat kid's fraternity house
And it ain't made in no Hollywood wheat germ
And it ain't on that dimlit stage
With that half-wit comedian on it
Ranting and raving and taking yer money
And you thinks it's funny
No you can't find it in no night club or no yacht club
And it ain't in the seats of a supper club
And sure as hell you're bound to tell
That no matter how hard you rub
You just ain't a-gonna find it on yer ticket stub
No, and it ain't in the rumors people're tellin' you
And it ain't in the pimple-lotion people are sellin' you
And it ain't in no cardboard-box house
Or down any movie star's blouse
And you can't find it on the golf course
And Uncle Remus can't tell you and neither can Santa Claus
And it ain't in the cream puff hair-do or cotton candy clothes
And it ain't in the dime store dummies or bubblegum goons
And it ain't in the marshmallow noises of the chocolate cake voices
That come knockin' and tappin' in Christmas wrappin'
Sayin' ain't I pretty and ain't I cute and look at my skin
Look at my skin shine, look at my skin glow
Look at my skin laugh, look at my skin cry
When you can't even sense if they got any insides
These people so pretty in their ribbons and bows
No you'll not now or no other day
Find it on the doorsteps made out-a paper mache¥
And inside it the people made of molasses
That every other day buy a new pair of sunglasses
And it ain't in the fifty-star generals and flipped-out phonies
Who'd turn yuh in for a tenth of a penny
Who breathe and burp and bend and crack
And before you can count from one to ten
Do it all over again but this time behind yer back
My friend
The ones that wheel and deal and whirl and twirl
And play games with each other in their sand-box world
And you can't find it either in the no-talent fools
That run around gallant
And make all rules for the ones that got talent
And it ain't in the ones that ain't got any talent but think they do
And think they're foolin' you
The ones who jump on the wagon
Just for a while 'cause they know it's in style
To get their kicks, get out of it quick
And make all kinds of money and chicks
And you yell to yourself and you throw down yer hat
Sayin', "Christ do I gotta be like that
Ain't there no one here that knows where I'm at
Ain't there no one here that knows how I feel
Good God Almighty

No but that ain't yer game, it ain't even yer race
You can't hear yer name, you can't see yer face
You gotta look some other place
And where do you look for this hope that yer seekin'
Where do you look for this lamp that's a-burnin'
Where do you look for this oil well gushin'
Where do you look for this candle that's glowin'
Where do you look for this hope that you know is there
And out there somewhere
And your feet can only walk down two kinds of roads
Your eyes can only look through two kinds of windows
Your nose can only smell two kinds of hallways
You can touch and twist
And turn two kinds of doorknobs
You can either go to the church of your choice
Or you can go to Brooklyn State Hospital
You'll find God in the church of your choice
You'll find Woody Guthrie in Brooklyn State Hospital

And though it's only my opinion
I may be right or wrong
You'll find them both
In the Grand Canyon
At sundown


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