Coalesce Album

We all know why you are still hanging on to this.
Either to run away from your family or to be something you can no longer be.
I think maybe time has caught up with you and it's time to get your priorities straight.
And to take what you've learned and pass it down.
And those old men, they lied to us.
What happens on the road always comes home,
and if it didn't, then there is no point other than narrowly avoiding divorce three or so times a year.
With no life lived to show for it.
Sometimes, I want to live again, just like the kids I traveled with.
Oh, so much more to do, so much more to see.
But, I think maybe time has caught up with me.
You see, when her eyes light up, it all seems so trivial to ever leave again.
I will never leave again.

It's all too typical how they forget their names when they finally grow their balls.
It's all too typical how these parents,
they deal with threats and dare to expect change anonymously.
Where the hell do you think you are?
Dirty looks and guilt trips are useless on us,
they only work on your own kids.
And you, you Terry, you fall right in line with your "more gore" and "more fuck"
and attitude that everyone is a fake but you.
Well, fucker, you're the fake!
Busy fingers on mental midgets from left to right, east to west.
It's so damned easy to be you, it's so easy to be a coward with no name.

If you still need to double check my work to make sure you agree.
If you need to sign an "X" before and after every title before it's relevant,
then I've wasted six years of my life on the simple notion that this was an open forum.
Then I've wasted six years.
Burn them, if your edge is so sharp it severs ties.
Burn them, if you've never been proud.
Burn them all. Burn them, if you've never been ashamed.
Burn them. Burn them.
Burn them and be done with it.
Burn them, if the music only plays second stage.
Burn them, if you've never been scared.
Burn them, if your edge is so sharp, it severs ties.
Burn them, if you've never been proud.
Burn them. Burn them.
Burn them and be done with it.
Burn them. Burn them.
Burn them and be done with it.
And none of us have all the answers, that's the whole point.
Just the opinions that serve and piss off the masses whether left, right, or right at home. .

My very existence offends you and I love while you are spinning your wheels
I move straight ahead ten fold with nothing more than a gut feeling to move.
While you're spinning your wheels for a lousy name.
I never met anyone who tries as hard as you,
you're up all night,learning the big words to come off strong.
The only ones you're fooling are your so-called allies.
You live off them and call it a revolution.
Well, you're a joke. and a lousy friend.
You're just another p.c. jackass operation.
Self-imposed poverty in a squalor for bitching rights is embarrassing.
But, you kept it real cozy at home.
So, send all mail bombs to mom and make the whole family proud of just what he teaches.
You talk a square into a circle, but nothing really changes.
You have an out. Real people don't,
real people don't give a shit how you think they should live.

We take ourselves too seriously.
We sneak as may politics as we can.
But, who will be the last to realize that sometimes selling out is waking up?
So, here we are, two different walks of life crossed once before.
And, it still takes a thousand miles to co-exist.
We are the same, just trying to exist.
If rewritten pamphlets is the best clarity can provide,
then you need one (a drink) worse than me.
Being delusional, well, that's a whole new bag and it's fine.
It's fine with everyone until you touch them.
(nothing is said no matter how angry or impassioned it may seem)
and when they finally had enough, they leave.
They leave in fear.
Your legacy will forever be self-righteous and violence against your own.
Against your own.
They can candy-coat their hardline roots all they want,
but, I've seen the tapes.
Don't ever let those clowns define you.
We take ourselves too seriously.
We never leave our politics at home and just live.
There will always be some struggle.
Well, sometimes selling out is waking up.

Where the hell is Rick Thorne anyway?
It must be five or so years since I've heard a good story.
Very few are those that can back up the big talk.
But you see, Rick, he never talked, he just left us in the dust.
There are always those to bitch about the status quo,
but he just blended in and tore it down from the inside.
And made all of you whiny bitches look like fools.
They're made of brass, son.
Growing up young with the idea to never give up,
I always challenged that and he burned me.
He burned me, don't you ever give up.
I bet the photo of that fat kid is still in you.
With the story of wanting to be told to another brat just like me.
I never stopped thinking about how much you overcame with a simple "fuck you."
A focus on just exactly what you wanted to be.
I hope my kids know someone just like you.

Out of the way, John's coming through and you're next on the shit list.
In memory of the man, who taught me how to live.
When the chips were down, and the barrel was loaded.
Oh, John. Master (peace brick) thief.
How can we ever forget you?
Everything we did you did bigger.
And you could bring the kid out of anyone of us.
And I will never understand what you thought you were doing.
You didn't have to go out like that, John.
You didn't have to do that. We love you.

I'm getting out while I can still count these murders on only one hand.
I'm through looking after you,
Second guessing your next move.
Lock the doors, turn out the lights.
The wolves are out tonight
Playing that shitty bass.
So, you get your kicks using my daughter and my wife as target practice?
Well, how do you like that shaft straight up your ass?
And I'll damn you right in your tongue.
You have used that grinning "no English" crap for the last time on me.
And, since when a shot of paint elevate the classes?
You run around real cute with your rainbows, like we don't know.
Like we care. So, look away when you see me,
Just look away.
It never ends for me.
Like it the fourth never ending.
Yeah, you're real brave roughing this.
Until you have children of your own.
There is no pride in these chances.

[No lyrics]