3) Rant

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Rant." If you could roll back the hours, roll back the days, What would you take back, and how much of it stays? The movies that you saw, the drinks that you drank The turns that you made, the ships that you sank The lovers that you chose, which ones were best The hearts that you broke, the ones done in jest. The meals that you ate, the help that you gave The people you mocked, the money you saved The laws that you broke, the ones that you wrote The fools you denied, the ones got your vote. The jobs that you took, the ones left undone The animals you hunted, the ones made you run The cheeks that you kissed, the ones that you kicked The notes that you played, the ones that you tricked. The career you decided, the classes that you took The doors that you opened, opportunities forsook The plays that you made, the ones that you read, How and where and when you made up your bed. If you could roll back the hours, roll back the days, What would you take back, and how much of it stays?

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Rant." Listening to the clickety-clank of the rotating electric box In this forsaken playground replete with invisible clocks Amidst the streaming synod of faces sweating far and wide An implicit sanction of a mythic civility long ago died. It’s 98 at midnight in the land of the lost Comprehending little of desperation’s cost We toss wages away as if they were dust Severing greed upon avaricious lust. Throngs of lemmings gawk in a Margaritaville haze At wondrous constructions dyed with hidden backhanded plays Bargain hunters scurry in frenzied discounts’ search Others looking down on them from golden rule maker’s perch. It’s 98 at midnight here on the desert floor Air conditioned heaven is beyond each and every door Invited to roll away our life’s worth in seconds The striptease in the teddy winks as she beckons. Bet-crazed disciples crowd for a chair at the devil’s table Laying down their terminal assets, dysfunctions enabled Hiding their losses from their drunk spouses to wonder Deceptive self-destruction tearing families asunder. It’s 98 at midnight in the billion-bulb night Hedonism outlandish, golden calf’s delight Creatures of the dark present credentials aloud Pandering their poison with every tug on the crowd. Yes, it's 98 at midnight for these denizens of the deep Aware of all the opulence but none they get to keep ”Oh I can win it back,” yet another one exclaims, But no one believes you’ll ever get even at their games.

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Rant." You ever get yourself on to a ride and wish you could get off? Ever hoped that you’d throw up but only had to cough? You ever get into such a mess you just couldn’t clean it up? Or ever fall behind the times, you never could catch up? Well sometimes life is like that ride, it whirls so furious fast You get yourself involved so much, ‘fore you know it’s passed It’s pressures wind you up so tight, impossible to let go Our obligations, self-imposed or otherwise, seem to make it so. Our kids, our jobs, our friends and our spouse Our cars, our credit, our payments on our house The wrongs that others do us and mistreating them all back Our ethics haunts our demeanor as an airplane takes on flak. We try our best to maintain it all and aim to be happy to boot But lives go by so fleetingly, do we make time to see the truth? Often I wonder if being a monk would be too simple to bear Would I be bored, is it conditioning, to live without a care? So valiantly we tread water as sinking is truly unthinkable Fortitude and honor comes of age, a worthy goal attainable We juggle our tasks, our responsibilities cast, others depend upon us Holding our own end up like Shiva on caffeine, a futuristic Atlas. Integrity then, is a measure of it, can we keep it all together The health and well-being of our descendants is a definite bellwether Construct yourself a pillar of strength, an example to be made for all Have you heard the great internal sound of human society’s call?

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Rant." Got no time to wax poetic and jest The final exam’s no schoolboy’s test The problems we face are piled sky high The solution will come from no ordinary guy. But beware panacea in too swift a mode Banning personal greed’s no easy road We’ll be ripe for the picking in our abject shame We’ll cowardly smile in his charismatic fame. Got no time to be your friend today you see For your soul’s on the knife-edge of eternity The decisions you make determine allegiance in trust And align your posterity in blood, lies and rust. So sinner man heed the call of thy maker Yes Darwin’s a fool, be a giver not a taker And come to the gates with your underwear clean Ring the bell when you’re proud where you’ve been. This ain’t no kissy kissy love song my girl It’s an order to be right You’ve given the chance to come out of the dark Illuminate in righteousness light. So call me mean, call me callous and gruff You’ll thank me for being so direct and rough All your children stray like shepherd-less sheep And you throw your hands up for you’re in too deep. You are what you own you tell all your friends Forgetting what you lack, for your morality depends On where your bucks are made and who can you screw But it all comes back to get even with you. So I’ve got no time to be sweet right now My call is for the moment at hand You’re running blind full blast to the ledge You’ll die unknowing a reality grand.

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Rant." The Congressman yells, "Who cares what they need?" While journalists salivate over echoes that bleed Backed by college diplomats who can't even read Inching up mountains of corporate greed. And partisan princes appoint themselves worthy Their elections were rigged, it's all been so dirty Shiny, slimy senators deny allegations flirty Feign your forgiving, grinning holier than thee. Will we all make it to twenty thirty-five? Can we repair what is wrong to survive? The poison, the lies, the conspirator's hive All plan to destroy you, not keep you alive. Arabs rage on it isn't oil profits that serve us Yet mullahs breed oil into blood lust that slays thus And drug lords dismember all whom they don't trust Watch as banana despots' souls are ground into dust. And greed gains ground increasing power laid bare Freedom's just a myth, yell it loudly if you dare You're force fed an illusion of leaders who care For colors do not matter, it's division's despair. So can we all make it to twenty thirty-five? You might have the wisdom but have you the drive? The myths and the legends your cultures' contrive Are there to distract your ability to survive. And behind locked doors the superheroes contract To trade us like pawns, ‘tis a death spiral pact Old money, old power has the best of us tracked A noose they'll be tightening, your future's intact The temporal kings who've usurped the world's treasure Twist us to their will, and laugh at its measure. Hollow headed media mimic the oligarch's pleasure As numbskulls watch football and complain about weather. I don't think we'll make it to twenty thirty-five The automatons that do will be barely alive Their weapons are diseases and Death's sweeping scythe This beautiful planet wasted lest the Lord will arrive.

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Rant." One would think we’d all get along Know right from wrong, sing a happy song One would think we’d help each other Respect your brother, help one another One would think we’d grow as a team With a smile and a gleam right on the beam One would think. One would think we’d create great things Fly upon wings, nourish who sings One would think we could all live in peace Glide upon seas, that fighting would cease. One would think we’d stop telling lies Find natural highs, get spirits to rise. One would think. One would think true love would last Great roles are cast, achievements are vast. One would think tolerance is sane Prejudice inane, ignorance a bane. One would think to help out the poor Find avarice the door, love to the core. One would think.

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Rant." Tiny little heads feed me pablum from the tube You think I’m just an ordinary poker-playin’ rube Convoluted nonsense flows from their tiny little brains Yet ninety parts get sucked in a tiny little train. But I don’t believe a word of it For no one shares secrets with me You in the know have broken our trust Rights will be victory. Tiny little voices speak me riddles from a tomb They’ll resonate an echo, send you back into the womb Federal authority flows in the tiny little veins Vanilla potatoes fall back on tiny little chains. But I don’t believe a word of it Your fastball won’t get by me A spell of darkness you cast upon us Light will be victory. Ah, what a world it really could be If we all got along as one But we’re not a race as pure and just As we think now... No, I don’t believe a word of it It seems you’ve shown your all to me The golem screams lies from his pulpit Silence will be Victory. No, I don’t believe a word of it It’s all a blank screen to me Every deception will be revealed Yes, truth will be Victory.

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Rant." The seduction of a future, a perfect yet to occur Is difficult to ignore and leads us by the nose. Our present troubles don't exist in ideal times hence As naturally, we hope, as the blossoming of a rose. The past has its allure too, memories fond and dear, Selective inbred succors us, pain fades as morning light Dominates our mind's eye relief where shadows wash away The anguish of a life not so planned, not quite right. But we fool ourselves this way, this awkward life’s snapshots Intoxicates us so to be blinded to the big picture screen Where life happens all at once, the inescapable now How every moment is a universe just waiting to be seen. Comfort motivates us to adopt such a fictional state Reality places no obligation, so commons go the easy way Planning for some flawless future, living in a painless past We sacrifice the precious present, a present given we belay. An irony it is we that recreate the past each time we do conceive We reshape our plans as well, flexible as fluid indeed But the now moment is timeless infinite eternity Always existing, the same for all, a truth we cannot exceed. And as we grow from our linear perception of passing time To being the path itself on which we presumably tread Past and future will blend into one everlasting now Evolving into Human Being 2.0, our old selves lying dead.

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Rant." A breath of fresh air, a warm bit of food, a long drink of water so cold, Most would agree that these are the things that quell our survival’s need. But I would argue most vehemently that society has twisted the mold Higher ideals once sacrosanct but beneath now avarice and greed. The ethics of truth, an admittance of Ruth, have commonly been rolled Into abomination, intellect’s starvation, and no fear of human misdeed. Everyone’s out to squeeze the consumer, the fool’s soul is bought and sold, We covet another’s everything, where goods, land, and wealth are envied. So many are driven, as a game to be played, to succeed at all it is true, But success is a gray goal and not what you make it, so shiny and gold and green. Happiness comes as a personal thing, a mind set that none could dare argue, You make up your mind, life treats you kind, and not malevolent and mean. Is it the absence of things that makes me sad, so downhearted and blue Or is it the shallow indulgence of greed that vexes our ideal’s dream Can western man once more be satisfied with simple pleasures and love that is true Can he resist TV’s peer pressure, the six-pack mentality, ignorant of hygiene. Do we think we are less than the next for a nicer car, house or plane? Isn’t our will strong enough to overcome insecurity’s shaky facade? What is to say for a man’s character if his life’s work is merely his gain? What about relations with others, the loves he has had, the path he has trod? Aren’t we the sum of what we have done, not what we have on this plane? To give of ourselves for the welfare of all before we’re lowered into sod, Or are we to take what we can, corporate man, stroking our covetous mane, The time comes to all, indeed when you’re called, to answer the name of your God.

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Rant." I knew you once, gentle land of plenty Pine-covered hills and rustic valleys Tranquil blue oceans lapping on snow laden peaks Fertile green fields where it rained one and twenty. We made tallow wax candles and churned our own butter Hunted for clothing and wild meat for our supper Carved out a niche in freedom's new world Riches abounded in paradise uncovered. Some got lazy and did not their own work And stole souls from their homes, put them in chains So we fought a war over bondage revealed Our fathers’ words bravely stood up to the test. Then factories hummed as we invented and grew A beacon of hope to a near-medieval old world We fashioned our light bulbs, our cars and our planes The world was our oyster, we rose in its eyes. Freedom’s defender in God did we trust And carried that torch in our flag did it mean We wanted truth and democracy for all peoples alive Despots and tyrants were despised in our wrath. Now we have come to more modern times Where truth is a casualty of convenience and greed And the sunshine we loved is clouded by deceit We are but fed lies by our government s tools. America my jewel, a diamond in God’s eye Has been infiltrated by self- interest and guilt Partisan back-biting has replaced the frontier spirit We can’t even lead the kids let alone the world. The products of our choices have become monsters We cannot control that which we have begot Thomas and Ben are rolling in colonial graves A profane crassness bred from profound sinning. I knew you once, in the history books of old And I cry for a land of beauty and limitless free Where men of ideals and vision once reigned And saved their brothers the world ‘round. Those days are gone forever, those books have burned In racial strife, corporate greed, and political lies we die We have sacrificed the important for the urgent And given away God’s holy blessing for nothing at all.