Train's A-Comin'

[Phox]

I hear a train a-comin'.

It's comin' round the bend...

Here's the funny part. I can't get off the tracks.

No, my foot isn't caught.

No, i'm not tied down. At least I don't think so. And seriously, what kind of Snidely Whiplash motherfucker ties a girl to the train tracks? In this day and age? Get real, dude...

I just can't get off the tracks. It's like I've got no motivation. Funny, huh? Hehe, I certainly think so.

I mean, I don't want to get hit by a train. It's pretty damn messy, for one thing. But... ya know, what? Maybe I do. The tracks are just so damn comfy, ya know? And hey, it ain't like I'll have to clean up afterwards, right? Hehehe.

What? Marks on my neck? Aww, those ain't nothin'. Just a spider bite or something. Not important at all. Hey, Keeping up with the Kardashians is on, why don't you go watch it? I'm just going to lay down on the tracks. Oh, you know what will be fun? DVR it for me, that way if I change my mind, I don't miss anything... Oh... nevermind. My train's here. Gotta go.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

No, my foot isn't caught.

Sure it is.  It's caught in the much-maligned "tar baby".  It's caught in the fact that the grey has even seeped here, into the very sanctum of Discordianism, by turning this place into a collection of fiefs and cliques that spend all their time arguing about who's worthy to be in the temple. 

And all the while, the train approaches.

It's even blowing its whistle, on every "news" channel and blog, but still the stuffy old priests argue about what flavor of Discordia is the real thing, and what people should do and how they should act.  And people listen to them, and take sides, and balance on one rail or the other, and refuse to talk to each other.

And all the while, the train approaches.

It's making no attempt to be quiet.  The police state is no longer approaching, it's fucking HERE, and still we piddle and fart and throw poop at each other.  Old grudges cannot be laid down.  Old grievances are given a fresh coat of feces and hurled across to the other rail.  Why?  Because it's easier than doing something...or even just creating something nice for people to read/look at/listen to, while the boot of the fucking swine who now owns us comes down on our collective necks.

Train's here, motherfuckers.  Where are we?  Oh, yeah.  On the fucking tracks.

No need to Kill Me.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

Ive set the ball arollin Ive been clicking on the miles myself phox. Its my own train of consequences and my box car life of style.

And i see you lying down on those there tracks. Id stop the train and get you up off of them myself but i got a schedule to maintain here. The trains gotta run on time if were ever going to fix the nasty reputation that the mbta has built up for itself. Not even really sure where my train is going though. Not sure what the previous stop was or what the next will be.


Damn. What was the last stop? Was it fun? No matter.


On the train of consequences there aint no turning back.

[Phox]

I hear that whistle blowin'...

And you know, it sounds an awful like a UAV in the hands of the Chicago Police Department.

I can see the smoke rising and... goodness, it looks an awful lot like a specific logical language developed so unmanned drones can communicate large amounts of information between each other with no intermediary...

But damn it's warm right hear. And besides, the company's good. Why should we move off the tracks?

[The Good Reverend Roger]

I hear that whistle blowin'...

And you know, it sounds an awful like a UAV in the hands of the Chicago Police Department.

Really?  Because to me, it sounds like 301,000,000 complacent WalMart shoppers all farting at once.  It sounds like Support The Troops and We Have To Be Safe and a little bit of the glug glug glug you get when you waterboard someone who doesn't feel the need to be part of The Perfect State.

It sounds like "Good Germans" and fat suburban clones terrified for their property values.  It sounds like emo kids whining about what a rough life they have.  It sounds like people who think Bradley Manning should hang.  IN SHORT, IT FUCKING SOUNDS LIKE AMERICA.  THE WHOLE FUCKING THING.  THE GODDAMNED "Land of the Free", THE SO-CALLED "Home of the Brave", THE COLLECTION OF USELESS FAT RETARDS THAT SPEND EVERY MOMENT OF EVERY FUCKING DAY SHITTING INTO THOMAS JEFFERSON'S DECAYED MOUTH.

And it kinda sounds like Britain, too.  And maybe Sweden. 

wooooooooowoooooooooochuggachugga

[Nephew Twiddleton]

Guess i missed the mark a bit. Will reattempt later.

[Phox]

Guess i missed the mark a bit. Will reattempt later.

No such thing as missing the mark.

And that whistle sounds like laughing. You know the kind, the braying, jackass kind of laugh that people do when they found out that Woodrow Wilson made jokes about the "darkies".

The sort of arrogant laugh that people laughed when Clinton got impeached.

The laugh that you could hear when Reagan won in 1984.

The sort of laugh you hear when you disagree with Ron PAul's foreign policy "ideas" around one of his supporters...

Maybe more than that.

It's the sort of laugh that sounds like the person giving it just fucked your sister, spat in your eye, and pissed on your mother's grave.

The laugh that was so aptly called by Nero his "fiddling laugh".

The laugh that Mikhail Gorbachev wishes he'd heard less of .

You know?

[The Good Reverend Roger]

And that fucking whistle, it sounds like Laurel & Hardy, and one's wearing blue and the other red, and it doesn't matter which one, because Laurel is saying "Now look what you MADE me do".  It sounds like Newt Gingrich and Barack Obama and Ralph Nader saying the same old tired shit. 

And speaking of shit, can you smell the crap coming out of the smokestack?  What ARE they using for fuel?  It smells like Iraqi children and CNN war porn and disabled vets trying to sell newspapers on the median.  It smells like burning 220 year old hemp parchment, it smells like the bones of Patrick Henry and Ben Franklin and Mohammed Ali's career.  It smells like shitty compromise and an apathetic public, and so-called weirdos that ONCE AGAIN, AS ALWAYS, hate each other more than they hate their common enemy...Just like the Scots and the Meso-Americans and the plains tribes.

And the air brakes?  HAW HAW!  There ARE no brakes.  They aren't needed, not on this here ride.  There ain't no Casey Jones at the controls.  There isn't ANYONE at the controls.  They're all in the club car, arguing about the schedule.

But there's no time for that.  I have been insulted.  I must stay put and throw poop, and prove to those other bastards that these are MY tracks, at least until the Great Big Engine That Could gets here.

Get off my tracks.  And leave that fucking menu, that's my lunch.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

Sorry for the sound of the whistle. Its standard issue on these here trains. And sorry for the fuel. Thats just the only fuel we can run on here. Or at least thats what they tell us. I suppose we could run on something else but its just not profitable. But its really not my problem as long as i keep doing my job and getting my paycheck. Going far but not ever really stopping. Nope. Were behind schedule and i should actually speed up. Ill keep blowing that horn in hopes that you decide to get out of the way but i aint stopping for you. People have places to go and people to ignore. But ill be sure to radio in a cleanup crew to get your remains if you end up staying put. Im used to it at this point.

[LMNO]

It's the sound of teaching to the test.

It's the neilsen ratings once again steering our culture towards an ideal of lowest common denominator pablum.

It looks like people shuffling through the pervert machine at the airport, and feeling safer knowing the TSA watching their junk.

It's the Occupy movement shutting down ports run by working-class unions.

It's the sound of the Lone Gunman theory.

It's someone saying that homeless people are just lazy.

It looks like Mandatory Overtime Without Pay.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

I used to believe that there were other places to hang out, you know?  There was that Curly guy, of course, but everyone got sick of him.  There was some guy in Scotland...But I think he died.  There was the soda shop, but now it's a Walgreens.  There was Saturday Night in the back seat of a 76 Gran Fury with your best girl, but that was years and years ago when the sun wasn't so hot and there wasn't a cell phone going off every two fucking minutes.  No, this is the only place to be.  It's where it's at.  It's what's happening.

Because, after all these years, it turns out that you don't have to take it to The Wall, after all.  The Wall brings it to you.  It brings it to you in color, in HD, in any language you please (as long as it isn't one of those smudgy ones), and it brings it to you On Demand.  All you have to do is stand there.  Or hell, take a seat.  The train isn't picky.

[LMNO]

This must be what I wanted.  Otherwise, why would I be standing here right now?

[The Good Reverend Roger]

This must be what I wanted.  Otherwise, why would I be standing here right now?

Well, that's just it, isn't it?  Nobody MADE you come here, no matter how hard you try to rationalize it.  YOU walked up here, and YOU perched on the rail.  You and hundreds of millions of other Good Citizens™.  It may have been in style, but nobody forced you.  Just like nobody's forcing you to stay.

And you should probably get off of the tracks.  I mean, after you make sure nobody is WRONG, of course.  That's what I'm gonna do, yessir.  Just as soon as everybody has it right, I'm gonna get the hell out of the way of that train.  There's no room in this world for more than one point of view, so it's vital that I make people understand.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

It is what you wanted. Everyone seems to find the sound of maniacal laughter less obtrusive than a choo choo.

Everyone preferred the smell of dead iraqis and mouldering documents. They requested it instead of cleaner things.

And for some reason people always like getting drunk by the railroad tracks.

Its messy but everyones happy right? And everyone gets to where theyre going.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

Theres a train running on burning bones
trampled rights and foreclosed homes
the whistles laugh with a madmans tone
and the whining of unmanned drones

chorus:
theres a train coming down the line
smoke stack spewing out its grime
conductor trying to keep it running right on time
hear the whistle cackling
engine fires crackling
the people on the rails dont seem to mind

they see it coming they aint scared
the dont even seem to care
just want to bicker and stare
while they crack another beer

chorus

the conductor looks down at his fob
not my problem just doing my job
gotta speed up gotta crank this knob
gotta get these people to the next stop

chorus

the conductor announces whats to take place
the passengers eye the emergency brakes
think they cant anything anyways
go about their business and shrug it away

chorus


i have some stuff in mind for this musically if you guys think its any good.