• Perpetual Motion Machine - Nation Of Ulysses
• N-sub Ulysses - Nation Of Ulysses
• The Sound Of Jazz To Come - Nation Of Ulysses
• Last Train To Cool - Nation Of Ulysses
• Hickey Underworld - Nation Of Ulysses
• Diptheria - Nation Of Ulysses
• A Comment On Ritual - Nation Of Ulysses

Cough Syrup - why don't you cough it up?
Checkin' out all the ingredients,
Looking for the expedient,
Driving even baby, over the median,
Where you're comin' yeah, that's where I'm leaving
Perpetual motion machine!
Cough Drop tastes like a lollipop,
Vitamin C's got its own disease,
Health food inquisition dioceses,
If you are what you eat, I'm sweet
Perpetual Motion Machine
Just one does in a syrup house,
Over the counter and into the teaspoon toast,
The say only 4 times daily,
Anything to get you out of bed anyway.
Robitussin- why don't you cough it up?
Dr. Mom - why don't you cough it up?
Nyquil - why don't you cough it up?
Benadryl - why don't you cough it up?

I'm not talking about a Beatles song,
written 100 years before I was born.
100 flowers bloom, 100 schools of thought contend,
c'mon baby, let's hang around,
they're talking about the round and round,

There is only one Nation of Ulysses: the seriously unserious, reverently irreverent, amoral moralists whose iconoclastic assault on the received pieties of America place them in the front ranks of social critics.
What went into the making of the legend? There was their erudition, their stock of language, their lore in urban sagas, their ransacking of every literature, their knowledge of archaeology and racial history- of kitchen midden and skull measurements. There was the precision with which they knew the homely and workday details of culture as well as the big abstraction, the ease with which they moved about in history from neolithic times to the report of the latest congressional committee.
They were, as has been said, "The last group who knew everything"- and if they did not know quite everything they could distract your attention from the gap by a wry witticism. There were their strange songs, any one of which could have made a lesser band's career and each of which had the knack of standing the accepted doctrines on their head. There was their polysyllabic language and their slow acid style that corroded the sanctities. There were their conce, with their mumbled messages which only the better souls understood. There was the way they looked: shaggy eyebrows, ashen faces with unforgettable eyes, rough clothes that hung too loosely on their shrunken bodies, a shell of silence into which they seemed to have retreated for good and from which only the most persistent strategy could draw them.

3 chords, yeah they're yours,
we stole them from your bottom drawer.
16 strings or something,
yeah, don't listen, 'cause we stole everything.
Yeah, it's true, we got it from you,
don't worry man, there's nothing new.
Stay outside,
there's nothing in here that you would call alive.
With your own little shoes on your own little feet,
you'll never win or lose on your own little street,
when you're suckin' on your thumb and it's all goin' numb
and you're looking in the mirror and your looking so dumb,
well don't expect my invitation to come,
in your own little can where you cut out the noise.
You're too busy spittin' out mouthwash,
too busy spittin' out your own voice.
You keep saying, "I've got a car outside,"

I've got a little black book
Names & numbers and faces forsook,
Lips puckered, I swear they never spoke,
Put your lips to my neck for a key to the action index,
The secret sign that says your mine, call;
I'll give you back your dime
Something coming from the stereo
Hysteria, coming out of her stereo
Something stung me with malaria,
Hysteria is coming out of her stereo
Action - don't you want some?
Underneath the collar, is where it begins
The wearer of the mark of the love of pain,
Beneath the sheets, under the covers, is where it all begins.

Yeah, the road to hell, is paved with chocolate sweets.
Yeah, and candy corn, that's sewn, that's sewn at the side of the streets.
You know that every little morsel, promises, you will be satisfied.
But you know, every pretty wrapper, just holds,...
just holds another little lie.
Yeah, the road to hell winds through a gingerbread town.
And every ounce tells,
(Diptheria)
when every single pound kills,
(Diptheria)
and every loose tooth
(Diptheria)
Shows another wrong move
(Diptheria)
..of the diet...
(Diptheria)
..of denial.
(Denial)
Denial.
Denial.
Sell it uptown, Sell it downtown.
You're losing your pounds, just sleazing your bones.
Gotta,..get a shot from the man.
Got to...
Sell it uptown, Sell it downtown.
You're losing your pounds, just sleazing your bones.
Gotta,..get a shot from the man.
Got to...
Oh, yeah. And every ounce tells,
(Diptheria)
when every single pound kills,
(Diptheria)
and every loose tooth
(Diptheria)
Shows another wrong move
(Diptheria)
..of the diet...
(Diptheria)
..of denial.
(Denial)
Denial.
Denial.
AAAHHHHHH!
Yeah, the road to hell, is paved with chocolate sweets.
Yeah, and candy corn, that's sewn, that's sewn at the side of the streets.
The road to hell winds through a gingerbread town.
It looks real good, tastes real good,

Baby if this was Numerburg, they'd be hanging on your every word, sucking on your cyanide, maybe baby it's the only cure, I've got no time for your other line, girl's calling me on the phone, wants my time, wants me to play her punk rock show - My picture's in the movies baby, yeah, yeah, you never listen to me. Oh baby don't you know, gonna dress me up in all your clown clothes, your picture's on the T.V., same channel as Hawaii 5-O, my pictures in the movies let's watch the war crimes show, my T-shirt shows everything, I'm a superstar, who you fucking now?