1. 1

    Bombs Over Providence - A Vision After The Sermon: Jacob Wrestling With The Junior Boys Soccer Team

  2. 2

    Bombs Over Providence - All The Good Guys Are Dead, And I'm Twisting My Moustache

  3. 3

    Bombs Over Providence - And The Award For Best Post-Coital Hug Goes To...

  4. 4

    Bombs Over Providence - Anybody Remember John Enis, Chair Of The Board Of Tourism For Bad Sex, Ont.?

  5. 5

    Bombs Over Providence - Black Friar's Union Of Thursday Night Anarchists

  6. 6

    Bombs Over Providence - Broken Records

  7. 7

    Bombs Over Providence - Bury My Eyes At 1510 King St. W.

  8. 8

    Bombs Over Providence - Class Aptitude Test Results Are In, And It's Martyr Or Matador For Everybody!

  9. 9

    Bombs Over Providence - Cobra Constant Committee Bake Sale

  10. 10

    Bombs Over Providence - Dig Them Up And Try To Reason With Them

  11. 11

    Bombs Over Providence - I've Got Your Revolution Right Here, Wise Ass

  12. 12

    Bombs Over Providence - May Cruise Missile Diplomacy Keep Us Truthful, Good, And Mild

  13. 13

    Bombs Over Providence - Pink Slip + 1:30% Resistance To Your Daughter's New Pony

  14. 14

    Bombs Over Providence - The 18th Brumaire Of Boomer Ellsworth

  15. 15

    Bombs Over Providence - The Grand Preamble (Annie Get Your Gun, Mask, Ductape And Some Matches)

  16. 16

    Bombs Over Providence - The Starving Artist Weight-Loss Program Works... To Varying Degree... Somethetimes

  17. 17

    Bombs Over Providence - Walkerton, Workfare, And The Wusses Who Watched

  18. 18

    Bombs Over Providence - What I Destroyed On My Summer Vacation

  19. 19

    Bombs Over Providence - You're Either With Us Or You're With The Satirists

  20. 20

    Bombs Over Providence - Zombie Cheerleader Slumber Party Massacre

And The Award For Best Post-Coital Hug Goes To...

Bombs Over Providence

Once thought I could easily impart some beginner's knowledge to the upstart.
I've long since left such bombast to fight back, never win, try again iconoclast.
We are the nonsense we espouse to waking minds in sleepy towns.
Of the boroughs and the streets we've gleaned;
looking for a cleaner mind to drive obscene.
These eyes haven't been this dry since we gave up the first time.
Bad moves make great romance till you've grown fat on consequence
and all resolve is a chain link fence.
I've left before and I'll do it again.
Daydreamers, get your hopes up, Wage workers, throw your heads back.
Failed rebels sing with me.
I haven't been the same since the last time you saw me.
We get tired of the waking dreams we're in; of rubbing elbows and taking them on the chin.
Smile hard, this is what we asked for:
two for flinching and one more to grow on.
Goodbye hometown.
Good night old friends.
There's just no telling when I'll be back if I stay the course I have thus far,
and mark each mile with a scar.
They'll prop up what's left of me on the bar,
where I'll pose for a picture sent with a postcard.
Goodbye hometown. Goodnight old friends.
There's just no telling when I'll be back if I've tasted blood and known its source,
and hid my wounds from this dead horse.
Pull these strings and I'll run the course.
'Cause we are the wrenches?
We'll never grow up right.

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