Nick Lutsko
Thanks to Uncle Stacy
I ride the brake until the top of the hill
You're asking me to swallow a pill
That is bigger than my body
It's bigger than my will
We crash against the radio waves
They infiltrate and feast on our brains
I pump my inner ear with silence
But that only makes things worse
I soak my eyeballs deep in violence
But then my heart begins to hurt

Oh well - irony, ironically
Becomes the standard recipe for normalcy
Who discovered what and how much longer
‘til it's cool again is all lost on me
(This is not a democracy, this is a legacy)

Well I might ride my bicycle around
I passed out near the old playground
And woke up to some kids
Sticking safety pins in my head
I shook ‘em off and I fought with their moms
They made some accusations and then called the cops
I tried to ride away but then they maced me
And old man Jimmy left me for dead
I woke up in the morning feeling ornery and I did it again
The pencil dances in the palms of my hands
The naked page patiently waits for inspiration
But it's wasted once again
And it's judging me so hard
My Uncle Stacy is a magical man
He lives alone out in the desert
Eating cactus, making potions out of sand
And he sends them to my mom
(and I can't leave the house without one)

Well I might ride my bicycle around
I passed out near the old playground
And woke up to the kiss
Of an interdimensional being on my lips
I shook it off and then reached in my pocket
It screamed something in Latin as I pulled the top off
Uncle Stacy's potion; it exploded and sucked it straight into the abyss
Thanks to Uncle Stacy, I'll be riding in the morning again