Lunatic,
heretic,
contradictory,
self-indulgent,
necromantic endeavor.

“You’re listening to radio VOID. We’re here on your doorstep, ringing the doorbell, didgeridoing dubstep. Ready to dance in the disco lights of the law, here’s Void Denizen.”

Tuck and tumble took the lead over rock and roll
The tax attorney’s taxidermied head upon the wall
His trophy shelves, treasured selves, déja voodoo dolls
You shake your head, double-take, you thought you’d seen it all.
You’ve heard it all many times, but this time its for real.
Oh say it isn’t so! Say it isn’t true!
Nothing’s actually happening, but it could happen to you (who?) (yoo-hoo)

Low down dirty genius
Stole the divine fire
could turn it into anything but couldn’t find a buyer.
Low down dirty genius
Stole the divine fire
inhaled it up like oxygen and couldn’t get much higher.
Low down dirty genius
Stole the divine fire
he used up all its resources and never once got tired.

I sleep in window-sills, fetus style, curled up like a fern,
Unfurling in morning light
I stretch my limbs like wings in flight
sing Icarus icaros, wax poetic, cons and prose,
A fanfare of feathers.
They slowly crash and burn.
Disperse what we’ve gathered,
This phoenix ashen urn.

I’m a word player from the astral projects.
I’m a world prayer for them loveless rejects.
All my trains of thought are on track,
I’m making up my mind.
My style is polyphrenic, diverse as the divine.
I’ve got a range of imagination, raging many stories high.
Knock knock, it’s a poltergeist, it nearly had me paralyzed.
(don’t be petrified!)

There’s a signal in the noise
There’s a shape within the voice
The mind is made up, evermore
As if there never was a choice.

I don’t fear a man who’ll kill me, who will put me in the grave,
But I fear a man who’s overcome and made of death a slave.
(Yes, it’s so far out!)

Low down dirty genius
Stole the divine fire
could turn it into anything but couldn’t find a buyer.
Low down dirty genius
Stole the divine fire
inhaled it up like oxygen and couldn’t get much higher.
Low down dirty genius
Stole the divine fire
he used up all its resources and never once got tired.

He hired a new gun
Then he fired it for fun.
Little bullet children, sent flying on the run
Hungry for blood, sons of a gun.
And through these bullet hol(e)y men in death they were made One.
Pumped full of lead, they turned it into gold.
Insides filled with insights that could be bought and sold.

I’m not a gangster, I’m a gang-star
I’ve got a star gang constellation.
We ain’t got no flashy gang signs,
just real communication.
We know sign language for sea-creatures,
And if you wonder why
It’s cause that’s where we came from,
But we’re reaching for the sky!

Lunatic,
heretic,
contradictory,
self-indulgent,
necromantic endeavor.