New Bomb Turks - Nightmare Scenario

1) Point A To Point Blank
So many songs about heart done wrong,
about lost love’s bitterness.
Jilted Joes wrote your sing-a-longs,
well I dare you to hum to this.
“There are more fish in the sea”
is the only truth for me.
Then my feet get wet, my legs get weak,
I start to sink,
and then I start to think…

I’m goig down down down.
It’s burning in my head.
I’m going down down down
like a hunk of lead.
But it go on on on.
Better dread than dead.
I’m going down down down
from point A to point blank.

All you gearhead funnyboys
switched Spock for Pebbles comps.
You got all the groove and move
of a full-up parking lot.
I never worked on a car,
but I sure know how to screw.
You can keep playing dress up white trash
I’ll stick to being nude,
Urbane and lewd.

What I want to say
I know won’t fit in a song.
It’s hate and sadness
and a faith so long gone.
Keeps me from sleeping nights
or caring about the days.
Then again it’s short as the spot
at the end of this empty phrase.

All the Betty Page pin-ups,
All the silly love songs.
All the cute Satan tattoos
only hold up for so long.
The only thing that lasts for me
dies every day.
Maybe you can make a point,
But at the end you’re at point blank.
::top::

2) Automatic Teller
You’re the first to point your finger
The first to take my cash.
You hit the p.i.n.
and I’m-a lose my stash.
When I said “bank on me”
should've set interest.
Well my interest has waned,
my interest is spent.

Y’know you always come running
every payday.
But your circuits are down
when my wallets empty.
You’re 24 hours of plastic clash.
C’lock’s running out
this bull’s gotta crash.

Yeah there’s nothing left to say,
automatic teller.

You’re aim is always true
when you’re crying “stick ‘em up!”
But your vision is off
when the check comes up.
But now the jig is up,
your plan’s been hatched.
A botched burglary,
a slack safe crack.

The merger didn’t work.
The buyout never came.
My stock’s rising,
I’m off the window pane.
Your bargain hunting days
are growing short.
You tried to break my bank,
Now I’ll break your heart.
::top::

3) End Of The Great Credibility Race
So some set out to get out
and do their own thing.
End of the great credibility race.
But the ego e-coli
spreads equally:
End of the great credibility race.
Major or minor,
D.I.Y. or 3The Man2,
End of the great credibility race.
You can’t kill
stupid stardom scams,
End of the great credibility race.

So here’s to the ones
that just wanna play,
that set out to get out
and do their own thing.
The rules they shift,
but they stay the same.
Thrift store theatrics
and four track recorders
powered by trust funds
of guilty prodigals,
the checkered flag’s white
at the end of the great credibility race.

You can dare fate like a matador.
End of the great credibility race.
Have sympathy for all the dropped combos.
End of the great credibility race.
Touch on jazz and go prove you’re a honky white man.
End of the great credibility race.
Kill all the rock starts ‘til you’re a start for the act.
End of the great credibility race.

I wasn’t built to spill,
I ain’t no no modest mouse.
I roar like a lion
and I don’t miss a drop.
Life’s too short
for all this fucking crap.
Before you know you’re at your crypt
reading your epitaph.
::top::

4) Too Much
I’ve been fed
‘til I’m feeling fat.
I got fucked
‘til I was on my back.
The I spewed up.
Laid my head right down.
I tried to sleep.
But there was no use see

‘Cause there was too much
too much on my mind.

I tried to stand,
I fail and fall.
I tried to scream.
But I can’t find the speech.
I hit the volume,
blew the speakers.
Neighbors fumed.
I hardly knew see.
::top::

5) Killer's Kiss
I’ll cup your neck like a cup o’ joe.
Yeah, warm and sweet and soft and slow.
Or pinch it, swish, get the smell
and down like wine.
But if bourbon’s the mood
a short shot takes no time.

The shot will be a stab.
The kiss, a killer’s kiss.
The grab will be a stab.
The kiss, a killer’s kiss.

I wanna be a pal.
There are confidantes few
with ears so open and
hands so true.
You can count on me but
watch your math.
If you don’t carry this one
I’m a wiz at subtracting.

The cut will come in a flesh,
just like a killer’s kiss.
The grab will be a stab.
The kiss, a killer’s kiss.

So purse your lips,
and close your eyes.
Feel your heels rise and fall
to the killer’s kiss.

So purse your lips,
and close your eyes.
Take in the quick breath
of traitor caught.
The killer’s kiss.

You think I’m blind
to you midnight moves.
Well my sites are set –
infrared hot mood.
Mistakes can be made;
If you only knew.
The knife would turn those
red lips blue.

Turn around, see the headlight’s glare
from the killer’s kiss.
The grab will be a stab.
The kiss, a killer’s kiss.
::top::

6) Continental Cats
We drop by giving up the laughs galore.
But when it’s time to go we’re solo out the door.
It always hits us in the ass on the way.
Makes us feel we’re alive,
or at least okay.
I’aint might be gain, but feeling good’s the goal.
This cat’s pushing #).
He’s got nothing to lose.

The damned don’t cry ‘til the fire flies.
They got nothing to lose.
This snake’s eyeing his behind.
He’s got nothing to lose.
Yeah we’ve got nothing to lose.

Squaresville, squaresville is the only place
you won’t find on our treasure map of deep disgrace.
Well-oh-well rounded’s our aim.
Continental, sentimental,
usually disdained.
We land standing on life #8.
::top::

7) Spanish Fly By Night
Wanna basque in the glory of the laid back way.
Walk in, lay down, walk away.
There life is for living.
Here the living is rare,
in this land of stress, this land of fear.

So fly me down to Spain.
I gotta get away – on a Spanish fly by night.
Love it or leave?
The choice is plain as day – on a Spanish fly by night.

Convenience costs an arm and a leg.
Siesta’s charge is staying in the bed.
They’ve got bullfights.
We’ve got the N.R.A.
Sick of ducking, I’m steering clear away.

Course I’d miss the skyscrapers,
the long freeways.
From the slums of Cincinnati to the Erie bay.
Violence keeps you guessing.
Yeah the guessing feeds my brain.
Guess I’ll stay back in the U.S.A.
::top::

8) The Roof
It’s back to nature, boys.
It’s back to town.
Back to where we grew up down.
Back to what comes natural to us,
like sucking up car exhaust.

Killing time and climbing of the roof.
This roof looks over everything.
We can look north, south or east, or west,
but never see anything.

I lose my mind, I lose control.
I take the stairs when I can take no more.
Killing time and climbing up the roof again.

So we stand there daring to jump off,
but stand still anyway.
The late summer wind zips right past us,
but we ain’t going anywhere.

The sunset clouds look lovely, that’s for sure.
But it’s more fun watching bottles bust.
The rain feels cool, it might just clean us yet,
but not before the city rusts.
::top::

9) Your Beaten Heart
So there were challenges you couldn’t handle.
Guess your grip wasn’t as tight as your bitterness.
So it’s come to this.
Now you defense is most offensive
You claim the ones you avoided never talk to you.
Yeah, well where were you?

You know your eyes are empty.
Your lips they barely move.
You know your beaten heart ain’t beating hard.
It beat it outta you.

The lies they pile on others.
The web it strangles you.
You know your beaten heart ain’t beating hard.
It beat it outta you.

So there you’re hanging onto air,
thinner than your glare, gasping for a breath,
fighting old despair.
Blueprints for happiness you played to a T
turned green with the greed that snuck right into you,
and gave you the blues.

So now you’re out to avenge yourself.
Shove your hand to shake, but that grip it quakes.
It’s too used to faking it.
Does your safety net have holes?
Do you wish you at least had foes?
Do you even know your name anymore?
::top::

10) Turning Tricks
I’m turning tricks.
Yeah it’s time to turn.
Turn the candlestick,
it’s time to burn.
Burn out too quick
and you could get burned.

See I can be a whore,
make a letter pimp.
Watch the deal go down,
take the money in.
Piss it all away
on a drunken whim.
I’m turning tricks.

Turning head, turning tail, turning tricks.
Turning keys, turning heels, turning tricks.
Turning blue, turning black, turning tricks.

Mary Magdalena mad Jesus think
there’s salvation in a paper’s wink.
Judas got the boot.
Mary kissed the feet.

Well I can kiss feet too
but I’d rather dance.
There’s no apology in this tramp’s pants.
Just more come-on lines
than you can shake your finger at.
::top::

11) Wine And Depression
So here it comes again.
That self-inflicted pain.
The popped cork and glass.
On your ass

I got the wine and depression
coming on so fast.
Blinding intentions
see the eyelids crash.
Digging for dollars
through the holes burning.
Wine and depression
yeah gonna win…

I got wine and depression.
And I’m feeling like I gotta move.
Wine and depression
the only mixed drink I approve.
When the time and conditions
drown this sinking thinking man,
I screw myself, pop the cork,
and let the river bend.

So let me dive right in.
Tears are my best friends.
I’ll wallow while I can.
While I can…

Maybe it’s whining depression,
I’m a little brat.
When the wine gets depressing
I’ll try another hat.
For now it’s lamp shades
and some belly laughs.
I got the wine and depression
it’s a gas gas gas.
It’s gonna pass.
::top::

12) Quarter To Four
Well the night was lost.
The night was sore.
Then my pockets emptied
as the beer downpoured.
What at last was on
was now quarter to four.
Another wasted night.

So this night was right
for stupid sin.
Yeah the holding out
was caving in.
The slickest sinner
always wins the prize
of a wasted night.

I wanna go, I wanna stay.
I wanna say something.
I’ve got nothing to say.
Another wasted night.

I close my eyes,
don’t wanna see
the sun coming up
on my history.

So if the chance comes down
to steal a kiss
you nab what you can
resignation is bliss.
I never brake when I hit the skids
on a wasted night.

See we can close our eyes,
let our hands pretend
we can kill this life
with tight grips and hedged bets
that will ditch this world.
But for now let’s curl
into this wasted night.

Crawling like James Dean
for his toy monkey.
Living by night, in a lonely place.
My father was Nicholas Ray.
::top::