The song Open Season was originally written as lyrics for the debut album by the same published by my friend Oded Zukerman.
I think it’s high tim I republished it here as well
Open Season
Grandpa Box and Grandma Bag, you battered prune you barren hag. Cash in your bottles and get a gun. It’s open season it’s time for fun.
Save up on anger and reload hate. They had it coming it’s only fate. Slay that fucker and kill that bitch. It’s open season so let’s hunt the rich.
“Molesto” Molly and “Hot-Pants” Tom, you got kicked out by dear Dad and Mom. You work your ass and you pout your lip. Now get a chain saw and bring your whip.
Save up on anger and reload hate. They had it coming it’s only fate. Slay that fucker and kill that bitch. It’s open season so let’s hunt the rich.
Ever so often I find myself writing some poetry. This was written about three years ago:
The Lunatic’s Song \ Mike Darnell 2004
1.
I wish that I could fly
High above the sky
Upon the moon to ride
and upon the people spy
Chorus
For a lunatic am I
a lunatic am I
a lunatic am I
& I am high…
2.
I wish that I could spy
past your unzipped fly
and gaze upon the wonders kept
safe between your thighs
Chorus
For a lunatic am I
a lunatic am I
a lunatic am I
& I am high…
3.
I wish that I could taste
the lips of virgins chaste
I wish that I could rattle bones
with loving knowing, whoring crones
I wish this moon will never wane
but pray for it to rise again
The moon loves me for who I am
just your average little man
Chorus
You’re the lunatic I am
the lunatic I am
the lunatic I am
Our lives’ are a sham
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I guess that this poem echos my opinions regarding the worship of practicality above creativity and personal freedom
Aah Practicality… \ Mike Darnell 2005
Aah practicality - light of the age,
demands that the muses be put in a cage.
Down with the poets,
the actors on stage.
Lock up writers, musicians,
they’re no longer the rage.
Lets forbid foreplay!
Make lovemaking a sin!
It’s mating we need,
to breed more of our kin.
Practical youth obedient,
subdued…
Enjoying sex?
How wasteful and rude!
Not me,
not I.
Practicality is crap!
Its a chain, its a lock,
meant your spirit to trap
The Hermit, the Genius, the Artist, the One,
rarely seek practicality – they’re just looking for FUN!
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My insecurities lie upon the floor mixed with your clothes
I have your purity to wash away the tears and ease the blows
There’s the security I hold a secret no one knows
Your mine to hold and mine to know
it fills me with the warmest glow
and though I have a world to tow
to you I’m still the star of this show
Your inability to evil makes a martyr out of me
Your complicity navigates this pirate on high seas
The audacity of lying here with you I cant believe
Your mine to hold and mine to know
it fills me with the warmest glow
and though I have a world to tow
to you I’m still the star of this show
You are what’s best in me and i hope to god that you will never leave
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