Psychopomp and circumstance Blinded gods don’t look askance Syphilitic bastard hound Leads the sun below the ground I would rather be scorned as a god Than reign as a so-called king Xolotl Xolotl Every night the sun forgets Its own name and face, it sets Xolotl guide the fifth sun through Though it shines no light on you I would rather be scorned as a god Than reign as a so-called king Xolotl Xolotl I would weep till my sockets formed a sea If it quenched the fire within Xolotl Xolotl Twelve lost souls in my flock I led through underworld caves Fields of razor, stalking cats had tested their resolve One said, “Each action is a grain of sand which weighs upon us still So how are gods not buried ‘neath an endlessly-expanding hill?” It’s not the mortal enemies I made through deed and word Whose whispers shiver sharp without a sound It is the mortal friends, I fear, whose arrow flight through reckless year Will soon collide with time and cold hard ground

If you were there in the sub on that fateful day Would you had what it took to disobey The crisis hot, captain yelling “Bombs away!” One sudden choice, disgrace or a world in flames Your tin can seethes, your breath boils, your sweat pours Maslennikov says this is it, this is war Torpedos burst, no info known this far offshore You think of Olga, Yelena, all you answer for (J - will you do it x8 you must do it x7, then M - NO!) Chorus: Let’s dance for Arkhipov, let’s pop a cork for old Petrov If we have to burn it down and start again At least have the sky and the birds and the wind If I was there in that bunker in eighty-three And I got that early warning on my system screen Would I have known whether to turn the end-times key? A false alarm? Probably...but no guarantee I like think I would have stayed focused and calm But I know, were I there, we would have dropped the bomb Who trains our hands for peace? A missing psalm So here’s to two heroes who saved us from the atom

Melody must have swapped a six and a seven Because early one morning I start hearing from Devon From Craig and from Lindsay, who missed her at brunch Sam wants to know just what she put in that punch I should have replied "You fellows got the wrong person" But my social loneliness was starting to worsen So instead I said "Lindsay, I love your mauve top," "And Sam, don't tell no one - it's just ginger pop" How can a wrong number feel so right? How can a cell phone give off such warm light? I know I should be honest and straightforward and forthright, but Melody's num-ber (Melody's number) Melody's num-ber (Melody's number) (brief break) I tried to stop posing as Melody from Michigan but 4 in the morning, I just got that itch again Craig's at a party, we chat about midterms I know I'll get caught someday, but this is the interim One night I get a panicked (if mispelled) text Lindsay got plastered and hit on her ex I calm her down and get her out of her stress Got several facts wrong, she's still impressed (I'm blessed) How can a wrong number feel so right? How can a cell phone give off such warm light? I know I should be honest and straightforward and forthright, but Melody's num-ber (Melody's number) Melody's num-ber (Melody's number) Melody's number, the fun never ends Melody's number, I finally have friends Melody's number, just too damn fine Melody's number, seven three nine (brief break) I'm chatting to Sam explaining "I can't come over" When Sam gets a separate text "Mel's in a coma" "Wait, who are you?" she asks, but there's no time. I've got to get there, explain my victimless crime. I find her in Lansing under hospital covers "The verdict looks good!" cries out Sam to the others I briefly consider greeting my misled clique Instead I slip out and change my number that week How can a wrong number feel so right? How can a cell phone give off such warm light? I know I should be honest and straightforward and forthright, but Melody's num-ber (Melody's number) Melody's num-ber (Melody's number) Melody's number, the fun never ends Melody's number, I finally have friends Melody's number, just too damn fine Melody's number, seven three nine

The jackals are howling, the banshees are prowling The dawn barely fends off the night Elites of all nations stand primed at their stations To drown the whole earth with floodlights Eyes burning with faith, not the tiniest wraith Nor one shadow of doubt can be found They’ll fire the weapon, a holy conception Flames baptize the new hallowed ground We’re going on a great journey We’re never coming home The jackals are howling, coyotes are prowling The sand dunes an infinite sea From alpine to salt brine, from scrubland to upland This world hides nothing from me A seed on the wind gets to endlessly spin But can never take root in the earth To worship as idol a cause suicidal Death isn’t the same as rebirth We’re going on a great journey We’re never coming home

Furnace is boiling hot, churning the flames deep within Furnace don’t burn me up, furnace don’t melt me down, no River is running dry, choking the countryside now River don’t ebb away, leave me gasping like a fish I’m a medieval king powerless to his gout I’m a skyscraper with every window shot out! CHORUS: Pa-la-la the padlocks sing, a song of sweet unshackling, oh Pa-la-la the padlocks sing, they sing for you Pa-la-la the padlocks sing, a song of sweet unshackling, oh Pa-la-la the padlocks sing, they release you Kudzu is in full bloom, covering every last inch Kudzu don’t swallow me, kudzu don’t hollow me out Lightning is gathering, clear sky unraveling, oh Lightning don’t strike me down, lightning don’t snuff me out, no I’m a metropolis, my subways crumbling down I’m a forsaken king, buried in my acid crown! CHORUS Every word is written in invisible ink...

Wake up on a Sunday morning Distortion fills my head Melodic visions of the nighttime Will get me out of bed Paying minutes of my life in the line To buy this memory Leaping at the stage ‘cause I’ve got someone to see Wake up on a Monday morning Exhausted but I smile My stark moonlighting in the nighttime Will make it worth my while Expedite another day at the job And get these strings on key Let me at my stack ‘cause I’ve got someone to be So if the lights went out for good What would nighttime bring? And if my voice was muted What would I sing? Da da da da da..

I. OVERTURE [instrumental] II. THE REBEL GREETS THE MERCENARY Mercenary, I’m so glad you made it to our island grand. Sparkling oceans, opal sands, guavas, palms, and rambutans Nature’s finest treasure chest, but I confess, I do digress There lurks a phantom in our midst, in dire need of exorcist He’s been in power fifteen years, his body count is quite premier A dictator with grasping eyes, I HOPE YOU CAN CAUSE HIS DEMISE! I HATE THAT TYRANT REGIME I HATE THAT TYRANT REGIME I HATE THAT TYRANT REGIME I HATE THAT TYRANT REGIME I HATE THAT TYRANT REGIME I HATE THAT TYRANT REGIME I HATE THAT TYRANT REGIME THE DEAD SHOULD BE MINE TO LEAD Sorry, I just lost myself there, let’s talk strategy and get prepared His fortress lies upon that hill, a mountain for an imbecile We fight like conjured hellions, they can’t stop our rebellion With you success is guaranteed, WE’LL MAKE EVERY LAST FUCKER BLEED! [Chorus] Where did you get all these weapons? I have my secret connections. Why me personally - can you explain? I think the answer is plain. Why are the people so pale here? They’re sickened by the junta’s failure. Why does that man look familiar? Probably just a similar figure. What is this peculiar island? A home for the desperately silent. What is this island? Flew red-eye from Dubai to take this job on special request Ten million dollars to help with liberation or conquest Don’t quite trust this man with weak handshake and slightly too big eyes But the junta needs to go orders clear we must Westernize One more mission, then they’ll listen Secret police will give me peace III. TWO DEATHS You there, give me your watch, give me your wife Minions, guard my body with your lives Servants time to hoist up my palanquin Hour is nigh for my most royal banquet Spectators, bask in my radiance I am nature’s perfect sapiens This island is all under control Palms, palaces, down to hovel holes Waiter bring me ham and garlic snails Flagons deep enough to souse a whale Minstrels, play another grand refrain Wait one sec, I’ll deal with this shit stain Have you come to grovel at my feet? Beg mercy at your rebels’ defeat Oh, you came with a well armored friend? Guess it’s time for the party to end Despot run, I am lifting my gun Despot turn your tail and run in shame By the time the sun ends a violent night, every shore will not remember your name So dictator flee, lose the sash, drop the keys, drop the war crimes, hang on to the blame Tyrant want a fight? Then you’ll pay with your life as I aim maim aim maim aim maim aim maim! Sorry to end your victory lap, with a little bullet nap But you see this is my own time to seize that precious throne There is a power to this isle, making it well worth my while When you die on the earth, on this island you’re rebirthed When you die here, you just cease - sorry, you’ve become deceased With your plane I’ll fly the dead, back to cause the world’s end At last they will end in strife, men who tortured me in life So lie dead and think of England, while I lead this horde of risen! IV. THE NEUTRAL WOMAN Mercenary stop your shaking and breathless aching Twilight is coming for you But you lived tabula rasa, not great or awful No home in heaven or hell Subservient to your last breath, a minion til death Now death is your heritage Mercenary stop your shaking and breathless aching Morning is coming for you Mercenary stop your shaking and breathless aching Twilight is coming for them V. WAITING ROOM I've hypnotized the zombified and swayed them with deceit Now every item on my killer's checklist is complete We'll vanquish half the human race, eviscerate the rest But I am haunted by a man I swore I had addressed You - mercenary - how have you returned back from the grave?! Those who die on this island are lost and never saved! You must have been a purgatory phantom paladin My horde consumes me and prepares to follow your command The land of the living is a waiting room…