No Control lyrics

Blacktop pavement cover me
Like a chemical reaction or a steam roller
Spreading randomly
There's a distan buzz and a low frequency
It tickles my ear, it rumbles under my feet
And it shakes the leaves off of every tree
(Violently)
What pretension! Everlasting peace
Everything must cease
Institution on the Hill
Like a beacon in the mind of an ancestor
To ignite a people's will

This isn't another new fashion, or a new wave plastic trend.
Everybody's searching for something but in the meantime let's all just pretend.
I've got this feeling and I don't know what it is.
This room is overcrowded, man, and I need air to breathe, yeah.
Big bang, big crunch, you know there's no free lunch.
Kneel down and pray, here comes your judgment day.

Culture was the seed of proliferation but it's gotten melded
Into an inharmonic whole, to an inharmonic whole.
Consciousness has plagued us and we cannot shake it
Though we think we're in control, though we think we're in control.
Questions that besiege us in life are testament of our helplessness.
There's no vestige of a beginning, no prospect of an end.

there's a spectre in the corner of an illustrated page
and a lonesome muted stripling with a rapt remedial gaze
the poverty of his language and the wealth of his emotion
bring him endless murky musings and unexpected frustration
angst and madness weave the fabric of his life
tomorrow might be better
but right now it feels like
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He's the latest superhero with powers so profound.
He can leap a dotted line in just a single bound.
I know you must have seen him in books and magazines.
He's the quintessential mindless modern epicine.
His life is meaningful because he gets things done.
Bang bang he's dead, chalk up another triumph for our hero,
The Automatic Man.

Hey Brother Christian with your high and might errand,
Your actions speak so loud, I can't hear a word you're saying.
Hey Sister Bleeding Heart with all of your compassion,
Your labors soothe the hurt but can't assuage temptation.
Hey man of science with your perfect rules of measure,
Can you improve this place with the data that you gather
Hey Mother Mercy can your loins bear fruit forever

There's a watch in my pocket and its hands are broken.
The face is blank but the gears are turning.
Confusion is a fundamental state of mind.
It doesn't really matter what I'm figuring out.
I'm guaranteed to wind up in a state of doubt
And sanity is a full-time job
In a world that is always changing,
And sanity is a state of mind
That you believe in, sanity.

Stranded
In a life in which your struggle for acceptance
Is a never-ending chore,
Upbraided
For your actions past and present and rewarded for the ideas
Of the future's bright open door.
The henchman
Is the human analogue of the suffering multitudes
Who like good dogs sit and lick for their reward.
So what good advice have I got for you

The wheat waving next to you is healthy and so fine,
As is dinner with your loved ones every day.
But your routine is changeless through the decades of your life,
Green pastures, open spaces, holy ways.
And it must looks pretty appealing,
The crowded festive nights
And the millions of others just like you.
Yeah it must look pretty appealing,
This other world of sin.

There's a place where everyone can be happy.
It's the most beautiful place in the whole fucking world.
It's made of candy canes and planes and bright red choo-choo trains,
And the meanest little boys and the most innocent little girls,
And you know I wish that I could got there.
It's a road that I have not found.
And I wish you the best of luck, dear.
Drop a card or letter to my side of town.

And progress is not intelligently planned;
It's the facade of our heritage, the odor of our land. They speak of
Progress, in red, white and blue.
It's the structure of the future as demise comes seething through. It's
Progress, 'til there's nothing left to gain,
As the dearth of new ideas makes us wallow in our shame.
So before you go contribute more
To the destruction of this world you adore,

Going through a world of sad debris,
Regard quixoitic reveries of ownership:
The blossoming disease of man called tenure and accretion,
The ancient western treadmill of deception and derision.
But I want something more.
Racing through a life of tragic wastage,
I experience the loss of trust and innocence.
The billowing cyclone of time has blown away our reasons

It's a love song to the self, a story recapped every day,
It's a world of bogus feelings and a world of slow decay,
It's a world of laughter hidden by this world of fear and torment,
It's a game of strange compulsion, our visceral convulsion:
Anxiety for love of life, anxiety for pain,
Anxiety, a feeling that you know you can't contain.
Anxiety destroys us but it drives the common man.

I can recall the warm youth of a summer day, yeah:
The sweetest lemonade, the darkest game arcade,
And Billy had a yearning in the corner of his mind.
It moved him secretly. It moved him powerfully.
But prescience was lacking and the present was not all
And his aptitudes were carelessly wasted.
And challenging life with the abandon of a fool,
He squandered the hours of his day.