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image by Steffan Ziegler
Wait to listen ~ From the GHOST SICKNESS ALBUM ~ From the FEED THE DOG CD ALBUM ~ HOME

Feed the Dog
words and music copyright DK Bridger 2008

Your mama left you.
Your daddyís in jail.
Tell me how that makes you feel.

Feed the dog before you put him down.
Bury him deep under the hometown sacred ground.
The orchardís on fire.
The grave caves in.
It's your hide from your original skin.

Did you know youíre listening to what a dead man sings?
Rest in peace. The song is restless.
It's Christmas. Let's bomb them hard.
It's Christmas. Let's play that card.
It's Christmas. Let's go the extra mile.
Drag your gifts through the dirt.
It's an awkward twist that sometimes hurts.
Everyone's gotta wrestle this crocodile.

A broken chain is all that remains
Of all the time and the efforts to change.
The hard wind blows a little harder.
The sun will shine just a little bit hotter.
As the moon turns brown in this sleepy desert town,
Break off a piece before you tear this beauty down.
Tear this beauty down.

Life can be an ordeal. Sometimes itís a pity.
Come back Jesus. They cheat and steal.
Come down hard on New York City.
The Big Apple, concrete and steel.

Now, tell me how you really feel.

Everybody knows there ainít no Santa Claus
Men with power can break any natural law.
The cold wind blows a little colder.
This war cannot be won with all the fucking soldiers.
We can stand to lose what it takes to win.
We canít run from these original sins.

As the sand shifts around this sleepy desert town,
Light a match. Letís burn this beauty down.
Burn this beauty down.
Burn this beauty down.
Burn this beauty.
Burn this beauty.
Burn this beauty down.

Feed the dog before you put him down.
Bury him deep under the hometown sacred ground.
The grave caves in.
The orchardís on fire.
It's our hide. It's our original desire.

                                                                           ~ DK Bridger


All words and music Copyright DK Bridger 2008. No material contained within this website may be copied, broadcast, published, re-written, re-edited, or used in any way outside of this site without consent of DK Bridger. Use of this web site signifies agreement to terms of use.
[January 1, 2010. Watching the Nancy Grace Show on CNN--the "Christian News Network"--early this week I learned of Alyssa Bustamante, a 15 year old who allegedly murdered a 9 year old neighbor. The Nancy Grace Show ran with some interesting photographs, self-portraits of Alyssa, who is now a Goth Goddess. These images were so hauntingly beautiful and incredibly informative that I followed up on the story on CNN.com, Youtube and news sites. I posted a lengthy blog on CNN.com, commenting on the story. I blamed the whole deal on Prozac and horrible parenting. I blamed Nancy Grace. I blamed television. I blamed our sick culture for wanting the blood of innocents and totally ignoring mental illness. Alyssa is completely innocent because she is obviously mentally ill, and if we still have laws, you cannot hold a mentally ill 15 year old responsible for her acts. Her brain is not fully developed and some idiot drug dealing doctor gave her Prozac, which is for adults only. Alyssa had every reason to be depressed. He father gave her reasons to hate, but only an American doctor could give her the will to kill. Read her father's criminal history on the web. Look at Alyssa's portaits! Yesterday, I went to the CNN blog to see if there were responses to my personal opinion. The entire story and blog had been taken down. I hope this is a sign that Alyssa's lawyer is better than the average public defender! The reason I mention Alyssa Bustamante is because her story is in the first two lines of this song. Her whole life is in the third line. I dedicate this song to Alyssa.]

We are doomed and we know it.

Run from knowledge with all your might. Streak towards doom in fancy running shoes and luxurious automobiles. Hide and ignore contradictions. Deny completely, or through force of un-will, disconnect. Fear sacrifice to be the only way to prove your worth---to no one. Redefine each word slightly. The gap must be wide enough to escape each meaning. Minds are engines of self-preservation, incapable of understanding outside the lines of killing and fleaing. The exquisite perfection of self-delusion is the only perfection within social systems. Define victims as Evil, remembering we are Good. We have others nearby as idiotic as ourselves to reinforce this collective misunderstanding.

We are beyond ourselves in accomplishments, and we do not advance. We search the Universe for signs of life, ignoring brothers and sisters. Search for life in dead space shows God how lonely and worthless we are. We are crummy gardeners.

Devalue the known. Value the unknown, . . . or count and name everything and know nothing. Give up need or ability to REBEL for the security of group-think. Cling to violence. Establish rigid parental control. Do this for lust, greed, selfishness, disease and superiority.

The instrument is igornant of its song. Sacrifice yourselves for the "Greater Good" without knowing what is good. Do these things out of self-loathing and grand illusions of knowledge. The world is unfair. Feel deep sadness. Grasp at religion. Reconcile killing--for food, entertainment, revenge, carelessness, country, unthinking reflex, hatred, self-gratifying cruelty. The monkey is confused on the twisted branch, collecting food. We have forgotten what we need. Water, food, clothing, shelter, and understanding. These should be expected without sacrifice?

This song contains reasons I do not trust political systems, the "goodness" of humanity, civilization and any group that is not lupine. Human existence is based on illusions, lies, deceit and slight-of-hand. We once shared and hunted with wolves and ravens, and worshipped trees. Now, we worship an invisible God, fear wolves and cannot understand the wisdom and abilities of ravens. We are disconnected from the Chthonian by fear and separated from morality by repression and greed. We cannot fight our way out of the bind because we are always Here, obsessed with pettiness and detail to the point of insanity. We are wired to add, categorize, and collect, not see and feel. We are uselessly complex when it comes to perception of the moment. We have sacrificed our senses for math and spoken language. We choose to own things rather than understand things. Mercy, Forgiveness and Compassion are noble jokes. Let's laugh with the raven.

Deceive yourself. Your antenae of meat is receiving and transmitting, but the signal is weak. Deny long consciousness, soft pleasure, deep pain and self suffering. Accept instant gratification and numbness. Define a complex universe on your terms, suppressing meaning, death and illusion. Go about the business of selfishness and control as you tip the balance of natural systems of control, insuring our collective destruction. The bees and trees are expendable.

Wecome to the Condition.