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telethon – stillwave كلمات اغاني

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part i: “fever”

protagonist:
they locked down the gates of disneyland last week
i saw it on the news
citing the riots up and down katella avenue
i watched that news reporter stumble with her prompter and i wondered soon would news reports stop, too?

being the good american i am
i knew i had to run
could be the last time, so i thought it prob’ly best to take the 1
traffic standstill, oceanside, sprawling desperate humankind
the pacific was tiny, sake of timing, i kicked back to the 101

152 to 5
not sure anyone still alive
barely any cars in that whole time
and this suburban kid turned city dweller
felt a tear drip from his eye at having
never really drove just to appreciate the drive

that sentiment extinguished quickly
when i caught the sight of a 50 something crewcutted dad-looking guy
throw an empty garbage can through the window of a best buy
and carry out a flat screen
a couple sets of dvds
of how i met your mother
“motherf-cker! put ’em down” i heard a disembodied voice call out
and that guy got tackled to the ground
by a woman with a nametag and a bright blue polo shirt
drew a sickly looking crowd
as she kicked his teeth into the dirt
when he eventually stopped moving
we stared grimly at his body
till he got up, grabbed his gl-sses, made a b-line to the hobby lobby

i left the scene, aghast and terrified
i took it as a warning of the horrors that could lie ahead
in wake of the announcement, human race to be eliminated
but something in there dissonated, and left me quite astounded

it was that
some people still wave
amidst the f-ck offs and the muggers
as they walk their dogs through parks
and they hold hands with one another
it strikes me as cliche
like something you see in movies
but the movie’s coming true
and people recognize exactly what to do

part ii: “locus of control”

white knuckled, i spent three more hours
captive in the c-ckpit, doing 98, denying all impulse
to simply pile through the guardrails that envelop the highway;
to roll the credits my way, but a morbid curiosity
took control
the second i saw
fluxing hills of smoke and smog
pluming over burbank and north hollywood
the great domain of angels
looking kinda like i thought it would

the cars, the trucks, the busses
there they were
a jam heading the other way
a m-ss exodus from la
and there i was, ever contrarian, heading in
to watch the show
i took the exit to ball road, stopped on the street and slammed my doors, i started walking
so anxious and excited, i was talking to myself

i said
am i depraved?
or am i going insane?
did i drive all of this way
for validation of my shame?
got no use in wondering now
there’s a kingdom i gotta see
a toppled idol of optimism and blueblood ingenuinity
and fantasy, adventure
the honest american dream!
rendered futile in the absence of a future
an 85-acre emblem of what now will never be

part iii: “journey into imagination”

jumped a chain link fence into disneyland this afternoon
accessed from the side, straight through warehouses and garages
near the back of tom sawyer island
past splash mountain, with its flume completely dried
the haunted mansion looked so normal
club 33 had its doors swung open wide

fascinating though it was
i found the atmosphere nightmarish
not a soul in sight to speak of
magic technicolor bareness
i mean no noise, no cheer, no instrumental loops
just themed facades inside a vacuum
that was until i met the troops

part iv: “light & fluorescent starkness”

finally felt the castle spires dwarfing me
warm sensations quickly pinned as familiarity
until i spied the upturned lapd
k-9 unit crown victoria
half submerged beneath one of the false brick turrets
a gigantic concrete base
a bronze walt disney lay below it
hand outstretched to partner’s, 40 feet away under
a sign reading “tomorrowland” on an ornate metal globe
a sawed-off wooden plank above it and all it said was “no”

part v: “initiation”

i heard murmurs past the drawbridge
slurs i couldn’t understand
knew beyond the iron gates stood what they called fantasyland
i couldn’t bare to see the fantasy these times had wrought in full 3d
but, again, that curiosity! i guess it got the best of me
i tiptoed in, my head halfway rotated o’er my shoulder
my breaths grew short and stuttering, the wind was blowing so much colder
and then i’d say about a hundred living corpses pivoted and all moved
toward me silently and slowly, then with
grey eyes and thinning hair
what appeared to be the leader of the group said..

“welcome in, o weary traveler! …or should i say, new member of the troops?”

part vi: “living in h-ll”
the leader of the troops:
“this is our land now, for the next few days now
we can live the way we want and run it any way now
i know why you came here, you wanted just to disappear
away from friends and family, from all responsibility;
to slip inside this world of optimism, ingenuity, etcetera
the saunter around the promenade must’a learned you better

judging by the look upon your face
i tell ya boy, well that’s okay
why don’t i give you a tour of all the hovels in this place

the casey junior train
it don’t roll around no more
its tunnels something of a haven now
for junk pokers and wh-r-s
and snow white, pinocchio, peter pan
in their respective buildings
but those buildings’ve been taken over
in fact they’re almost spilling

with the detritus of our country
i’m sorry to put it so bluntly
let’s keep moving, shall we?

oh, that’s mr. toad’s wild ride
the site of several suicides since it closed
if you take a look inside, past the switchbacks and the turnstiles
you might find what you’re looking for, if you don’t
well, you’d better watch your back
behind those blacklit plywood flats
something sinister is sneaking, stealing souls
don’t think it can be seen
it takes the forms of dying dreams, childhood memories, and the places in between
oh yeah!
but you’ll be fine, there is a h-ll in that world, just remember that
the little devils deep inside they know precisely what you lack
you may be perfect, straight and narrow, but they’re planning their attack

hey! buddy! where the h-ll ya headed?
we was only gettin’ started!”

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