Moes Haven: Lyrics/Clips/MP3s

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"What am I supposed to do?"
"Just jam"

In the spring of 1940
The air was clean but the streets
Were dirty
Infantrymen tore apart the seams
And I kept wondering what
All of it means

Differnet cultures have different
Symbols for death
And I wonder if I have enough left
For two and three and four
People hang outside my door
Proclaiming about existentialism
Tired of looking through life
Like it's a prism

Existentialism means sadness after
A break-up
The moment before she puts on her
Make-up
A handicapped parking space
The smell of fear and spraying mace
Sublime reasons and superb excess
Slightly unearthed cake and redress

Existentialism is the feeling you get
When your listening but
They haven't called your name yet
Sweaty mom's and dad's are
Arguing about the grease
It seems that they're happier
When there isn't any peace
Nothing but poison
Nothing to believe
The pitcher's in the bullpen
He's ready to relieve
You know all about capitalism
That's why it's time to study
Existentialism
It was the greatest intellectual
Movement of the cold war

I believe it was Jean Paul Satre Who
Said man is nothing but his mind
But I think it's time to startre
To leave all of those thoughts behind

We've come upon a new age now
It's time to start a revolution
Get free of our empty minds
And focus on pollution
It's getting to be a problem
The environmentalists are mad
Garbage in the ocean
Existentialists get sad

When we look in front of us
What do we find?
An actual third dimmention
Or just projections of our mind?
And can we ever know what we see
Is the same as what others see? No!

As far as I know
Existentialism is the study
Of war and how it affects history
Keeping that in mind
It really isn't that much of a matter
If I understand what's coming next

See a man lying on the side of the road
With the daylight in his eyes
Ask him about the wars
And you'll probably see him crying
So how can these people
Like Satre and the pope
Go on and on dishing out their dope
About wars and how good they are
When real men are dying in tihe streets alone and starving
Real men are dying in tihe streets
What about that Satre?

Gonna shave my body bare
Cause I think there's dirt in my hair

Existentialis dance, breath, laugh, grive, arrive, leave, wipe their nose on their sleave

These guys had concepts about art
About time and about falling apart
Ghandi, he subscribed to their
Magazine
But he was such a jerk and he
Married a teen
They're all hypocrites
They're all swine
Stamping and preaching
About the divine
But privately doing whatever
They desire
Happily setting some houses on fire
Watching all of the families
Burn to ashes
How dare these thinkers
Denounce the fascists?

Jean Paul Satre never wore
Any underwear
He loved to smoke he loved
To cuss and he loved to swear
He had a pet monkey who
Knew how to ride a bike
He had an ugly life partner
And a son named mike
He is the most self-righteous
Jerk that I've ever met
Standing so real so smart
With his cigarette
He probably loved cheese steaks
Albert Camus's car didn't have
Good breaks
He wrote all about a plague
It's an allegory but to me
It's really vague
But I take things literally
And true
And it's about time to allude to hugh
He loves beautiful naked women
And hanging around and going swimming
And sketching his initials into buildings
But the voices of all the people
He killed rings
In his ear he likes to wear
Underwear
And it's about time for the refrain

Robspiere and Rasputin
Sitting in a park
Talking existentialism
Until way after dark
Robspierre says, "Man is gonna
Do as he's told,
Work wither and cry and get old
There's no need for kindness
Or care in this world
Just find a few friends and
Maybe a girl
Shut the rest out
Bar all the doors and pray
That you didn't piss off anyone
Enough to kill you today"

"I hear what you're saying,"
Rasputin replied,
"and no one will care a bit
when I die
I've spent all my days doing
What I can
To isolate myself from my
Fellow man
And if that makes you happy
What does it mean
To be kind and nice in this world
If it's only a sheen?
To cover up the evil
Of the truth of your soul
I think it's better to be honest and remain in control."

If you lie in the beach
In the noonday sun
And look at a war
As it's only begun
You probaly think that maybe in fact
The moments you witness have a long impact

And maybe they do and maybe they don't
And maybe the continents will
No longer float
But if you can stop and pull back
And look
Life isn't more real than the
Words in a book

Existential, what does it mean?
Cargos and cavemen and all in between
From all that I've heard
And all that I've seen
No body can tell you
If not Martin Sheen

If only the people alive
Would see
That no one dead knows
Any more than we
They'd be a lot happier
Most of the time
And not have to hide
From that diatribe

Cause they hurry and harass
And horrify our days
Telling us to live in
Non-descriptive ways
Can you leave us alone, Johnson
Let us do it ourselves
I think it's time to burn
All the books on my shelves

War and peace and
What's on the other side
In the end who cares who
Lived and who has died
All that matters is how much
We laughed
And how much they cried

It's life and life only
That's what dylan said
If you're skinny or fat
Engaged or unwed

Existentialists probably had more
Ideas than they're given credit for
They were alive so many years
They died rich but grew up poor
Teachers and textbooks like to
Simplfy cause tests are
Multiple choice
Take a figure who'll exemplify
Put him up there with a hoist

I like coffee I like tea
Right a poem to recue me
From all the swine and the debris
It's better just to watch it on TV
Ever hear bout that guy Who went to prison for writing a poem?

The truth is I don't know
Nothing about the subject of this show
And I think that all of these
Great minds
Are very little compared to mine
There ain't no body better than me
Not even the newsman on TV
How'd he become a celebrity?

There are only two beliefs ever
Some people are dumb and others clever
Professors they love to categorize
Intellectuals love to theorize
And no body dares to proclaim
That their thoughts are not the same
As everyone else's
Who ended up in hells's

Bag lady bag lady can't you see
There ain't nothing sinister about me

Kierkegard was a crippled old fool
Who lerched around his village all day
He lived long and died of swamp grass and grool
And nary a woman ever looked his way

Like all the others he was wretched and alone
Jotting down his theories
In confusing prose
Why is it that all philosophers can't construct a coherent paragraph?

Neitzche was mean
Hume was a letcher
No philosopher born can
Top Irwin Fletcher

When covered in sweat
Hot and depraved
You don't really mind much about
If you're gonna be saved
All you wanna do is get to school
Cause they have air-conditioning there
It's pretty cool

The whole point is to achieve
Homeostasis
And so my friend, upon that basis
Nobody wants any extremes
Or to fall apart at the seams
Why then do people opt
For suicide
What about survival?
What about pride
That's what I wanna know
Can you please help me?

You see nothing matters
Or so I've been told
So what's the use of worrying
About getting old
Jesus Jones had the same voice
As the messiah
And had a break down
That's what happened ot Mariah

Things happen and things
Fall apart
Some Irish poet is proud of his art
Chinua says stuff about the natives and when he can't go he
Uses laxadivs
There's these existentialists
They're haunting me
They're standing at the theater
Quite dauntingly!

They are stealing my ideas
My hopes and my fears
And mopping the floor
Like lawyers' clients
Stepping out and showing their defiance
By refusing to take the medicine
Ain't that odd?
I guess they're putting all their
Faith in god

You've got to put your faith in the lord

I woke up as if from a dream
With carrots and tomatoes
Not ripe but green
A pebble game in the screan
And memories from when
I was a teen

Divine romances are good on the tube
But in reality I'm here at Jiffy Lube
And I'm insane
And you laugh at me
And I'm yelling insults
Stupid bitch!

Existentialists what have you done
You've ruined my youth
You've ruined my fun
I used to think Dr. Katz was the one
Existentialists what have you done?

Back in the 40s they had them a war
The existentialists told us
What it was for
They marched through Rome
With pots on their heads
They said it was vital
That we all end up dead

And they strung them up
By their hands and their feet
Dragged their corpses
Through the garbage filled streets
And if you look toward the hills
On a clear sunny day
You might see their ghosts
Or so that's what people say

If you find yourself trapped
In a dying plague town
With all heads looking up
And all eyes starting down
And all the people with holdings
In real estate cramming some living
Time's growing late
If you sit on your porch and
You watch the night sky
And you've lived all your days
It's alright if you die
And I think it was Camus
Who walked up the hill with
Sysifus, the boulder and lack of free will
But if you smile and roll with
Whatever's your fate
You won't need to worry
If you're time's getting late

He was born in a thriving
Construction town Albert Camus!
Where are you?
Albert, I see you over there.
He was bound for world renown
Terrorizing his siblings
Albert, you believe in the absurd
He certainly died that way
You wrote The Plague and The Fall
And The Stranger, amonsts other works
Never regretting anything
Myth of Sysiphus
It's all true, Albert Camus
Let's stop there

Come on rock, rock rock
Do the existentialish rock!
Just like Sartre and Albert Camus
Can you do it to?

I bought a car the other day
Everybody thinks it's nice
Everybody except my wife
And I've been working on a manuscript fo a few years now
I think I'll put it in the
Passenger's seat and go for
A ride in my car

Nothing is more absurd
Than dying in a car accident
CAR ACCIDENT!!!