From the Lifesmith Group album, "Prattle." Did you hear the news today? The ET's are here and want to be friends. Can cure all our ills in their alien way Improve all our lives in generous ends. Here to prevent the ending of days Come from beyond our time and space Said it's time to lift the cover-up's haze For many a year observed our race. Say they're part of a brotherhood vast Two thousand worlds in harmony and trust It's time to include us as childhood's past Before we decay into a nuclear dust Now do we believe them with discerning eye The gifts they offer appeal to our lust How do we independently verify or deny Their motives as stated or is it a bust? A man comes along, respected leader of sorts And announces that he's checked things out And the people come bleating in hopeful retort "Here's the new religion," all at once devout. Rallies the public to a new heightened cheer And honestly strives to eliminate doubt As sincere and believable as one could appear Handles all the concerns of what they're about.

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Prattle." You run with a pack of ravenous vampire wolves Swearing you’re impervious to pain You’re callous and unforgiving as a venomous snake Interested in shallow personal gain You’d screw your grandma without being asked On your wall hangs a framed picture of Cain The Devil himself calls you a drinking buddy Who laughs at impending nuclear rain. You’re entertained by suffering, you sadistic unholy roach Believing it could never reach you Hurting every kindly soul that crosses your slimy tracks Covering them weakly, denying what’s true You lie to your own friends so often they expect it Boasting you’re one of a fabulous few You love the toadies sucking up, treat them even worse You know so much, to you there’s nothing new. Well I have news for you, you two-bit devilspawn tool We are those who despise your ways, destroy you ignorant fool Play catch with my Chevy, see how I drive Your lyin’ jaws catch my blue steel forty-five Teachers of truth and love and trust eliminate from school Creeps like you are an ugly aberration to civilized rule.

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Prattle." Raging roughshod through a windowed dream Paused in earnest to redirect the stream Of where I came from and where I’ll be Within my maturing soul’s conservancy. Yet groping for gold apparently there I grab profoundly the transparent air Eluding my grasp the sad grains do slide A relative mirror of conception’s design. So similar poles of magnets repel Alacrity’s reach is vision compelled The control I seek is not one to hold Intention’s the nudge that massages the mold. Life’s like a painting, a stroke at a time The brush is not real, direction derived Feeling what changes, not touching at all Ghost-like projection, reality’s doll. Conscious choices you make are the key Unlock the depths of your own mystery What’s real and true can’t help but reflect The actions you take in mutual respect.

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Prattle." In the ultra thin cool of the summer In the burning green sun in the sky May your trees bear no fruit that is bitter Turn your foes in the blink of an eye. In the smell of the skin-burning pavement Where the dime stores stay open all night Make your peace with the blue puppet lawmen May you stronghold your morals upright. In the sweet delay of the satin cloth prison In the rabid injection of passion's delight May your tears be a hail from heaven May your match heads never be blind. In the stench of the money god's primitive want Where the blood can't find its air May your lungs be as free as the pain you inflict Without images of real despair. So see it all backwards said the Fool on the Hill And carry it off like a cross There's a time so near when the winds will change And death will be your boss.

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Prattle." Chaos, my friends, is the natural order of things Resolving an order takes the energy of kings Microstates, entropy, the law of the land Possible realities on countless demand. Control derives from manipulation of such A conscious choice and a willing touch But is it illusion in our space-time pure Can we conjure a solid, concrete, secure? Zillions of atoms in seeming random dance Parade before us proudly, animals, rocks and plants But these have structure, purpose and a goal Who is the contractor that assigns these roles? There exists a hierarchy in sentients’ minds Most see the surface, to the details are blind Some know the inner workings intimated so Extrapolates the capability of being in the know. The spinning of a coaster, the fishtailing of a car, The erosion of a hillside, the explosion of a star Where does order end and randomness then rule? The infinite mind begin reality’s endless pool.

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Prattle." Oh we live in a godless world Where lust and greed have replaced love As the basis for human understanding and trust Where it is the common passion to scorn compassion Trample the weak, cut down the flowers Deify the hustler that defies all the powers. Oh we live in a godless world Where confusion and doubt are mental means To a path of psychic sanity Where it’s fun to laugh at peace and truth Roll over the slow ones, run over the dim ones Take what you can before you become one. So all those things that they told you in school Don't mean shit in a godless world They'll string you up and tie you down And throw you to the lions as food. Oh we live in a godless place Where the minister's daughter's in love with a snake And the snake is the staff on the corporate board Where lust craving discos mock fertility rites Knock over the old ones and lie to the children And don't give 'em time to seek their revengin'. Oh we live in a godless place Where deviate subversion is not a disgrace But merely the clowns at the show Where hunting and killing are TV's refilling Destroy all the free men, pervert all the good men To cheat, steal, and twist all that makes life so human. So all the things they taught you in school Don't mean shit in a godless world They'll string you up and tie you down And throw you to the city to drown. Yes we live in a godless house Where charity and forbearance are forgotten lore As the earth grumbles loudly to even the score Where the primal urges are culture's primeval Crush all the leapers, stamp out the artists And you'll find in time oh yes you will That if you don't find God in your heart And live with him every fucking day of your life You'll become a shallow, empty, soulless mass of protoplasmic humanoid devoid of drive, ambition, and personality; a cog; a contemptuous blob of mindless, spineless, and secretly abandoned lowly being with a locked door on one side and a raging fire on the other, , , , sizzling, , , , popping, . . , melting, , , , stench--your soul breaking down--- You'll burn--Burn--BURN ! ! and I'll be there another cell in the finger of God—yes I'll be there to gather your ashes…to rebuild a world again based on love and peace and genuine understanding. So all those things they taught you in school Don't mean shit in a godless world Without God they'll rip you apart And pull you in their fire to burn. . . .

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Prattle." The reminiscent growl of plagiarized indignance circulates about the masonry jungle like the grating wind whipping thru an earthquaken canyon scornfully eroded by neglect. The cavernous depths of this primitive debilitation echo relentlessly; beyond respect and reason at ills never healed, it manifests as a choking desperation, a silent chained despair and ignoble surrender. Incorrigible hatred, clouded by ignorance, unassailable as a granite peak, storms down upon the meek and burns with a fire so dark, carving rifts in the collective rainbow psyche of us all. This overwhelming scent of Gorgon brothers, double-standardized in guilt bounce their bravado through fields of perceived principle and laugh as in secrecy. In truth we tire of the droning selfishness -- we know of difficulty, we know of predators and prejudice; yet we also know of tactful perseverance, we know of the seedling growing to an oak against all odds, and we see and forebear -- not as martyrs but as understanding integrating beings respecting our relative insignificance as a small part of a greater whole where we seek no separation. Our goals are truly One -- redirect your energy to Creation -- use your power and physical prowess in harmony with those of us who can help you -- we can dance on fire and walk on water all in the same day…

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Prattle." Magical mystical mythical people I see Swarming saluting surrounding the people I see Parading polluting patriotically defending me Why will it amaze you When everything around you -- is gone. Happily hopefully hanging there at the tree Balancing bombastic bricklayers at the DC Leaderless leaders led in and lost the war VC I know it won't surprise you When the world all around you is gone. Horrible heavenly high rollers hang in the sky Wordlessly watching with wisdom witness you die So super scientifically synthesizing situations For the Earth will be shaken The Earth will be taken from you. Paradoxically purposeful panic persists at the scene Globular greatness grows gray and covers the green Nature's new nature nurtures a seed that has been Your life will be made up Your bills must be paid off by then. Forever fearing future foes who fight you at the mast Relentlessly riding reality, reason the wrongs of the task So secretive star bound sailors may soften the blast Why will it surprise you When everything around you is gone.

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Prattle." Hypocrisy gnaws at me like sharp teeth of a rat Talk a good game but I’m better than that Preach about honesty but I’ve lied just the same Treat others with honor but played like a game. The Father knows in my heart of hearts true I’ve cheated and stolen, my debts’ become due And so my confession wherein becomes real The end of days comes with heartfelt appeal. No human is perfect but that’s hardly excuse For my hundred lies and emotional abuse Oh mistakes I have made them, ‘tis many a slip In drug-laden stupor often lost my grip Personal crimes against my own better heart Tear at me still, in dreams rend me apart Guilty I guess made worse pontificating Be a model for others while defecating. Constant battle within to be God-like and wise Digs at me daily from the moment I rise Distracted it seems by baser urges and goals In earlier ages there were simpler roles Judgment seems pointless for who needs more stress A careful assessment and adjustment seems best There may come a time when the Big Fella weighs all I want to be ready when He gives the call.

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Prattle." When demons conspire and abate the natural flow of events We hurrily question sages rejecting our own creed of sense Mortals search mainly for substance and rationalize to a fault Can sugar be truly as sweet if we know but a little salt. Smugly content yet severed still discerning our concealed cast The present creates the future upon the backdrop of the past. Erecting limits of life’s present gain, souls cry for order from chaos renamed We desperately dream of paradise unfurled rapt with the love in our own perfect world Cradled when feeble we suckle the breast Life’s holy mother, depression confessed. So carry you onward a sigh and a prayer Realize your dreams the wind in your hair For Nature abounds to heal and cool you Layout’s arranged, seduction imbued, too Oft intrigue is found by choosing the groove With least to believe yet utmost to prove.

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Prattle." 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, "Prattle." Viewpoint is a unique thing, a keyhole only one can see A periscope up from zero, a glimpse at personal reality No one shares your shoes, no one sings your blues Your world is one of billions, vantage point's singularity. An optic nerve transmission, vision thru a tin can wire Observation via sole intellect, a solitary taste no higher No one knows your plight, no one takes your flight Walking thru a tunnel alone, experiential truth your desire. Peering thru a gift roll tube, narrowly set yet patently yours A talent only you can possess, devoid of status, knowledge and mores No one moves your piece, no one signs your lease And though it appears we all share, no one opens your doors. Then we add interpretation into our singly universal dream And stir the brew with our past, our reason it would seem No one comes to your sum, no one knows how you come Your vision, your soul, and such reason make an unbeatable team.