KRISTEENYOUNG

Breasticles

We Want More!?

Touch Tongues

Bite Down

We Are The World (Why KY?)

Wake The Dead

21st Century Ride

Rock Radio

Valuable

Automatic Love

Breasticles

Incubator

Saviour

Flash

Buddy Boy

We Want More!?

Shoulda known the score
by the time I was 4
Mother had said many times,

"You're not of me
and that's why, you see,
you don't do nothin' right."

I said, "That's fine," but I'd still try
to play along, but I'd be wrong.
But, who needs their Bud Light life anyway.
Ooh, I want more.

Woulda had a good start
if I'd stayed up on Mars,
But I came to Earth through a virgin birth.

I tasted all I could,
had to know what was good.
And I love foreign food.

Where I felt deaf and dumb,
didn't know the tongue
Ooh, but I could feel its worth.

Coulda been full, but I was insatiable
and con-fused.

And there you were, a visitor,
out of this world, kicked to the curb.
So I said,"C'mon, let's get outa here.
ooh, you want more."

Hold on. I got to say.
I like your mouth….the way it sticks out.

We'll touch the sun to not go numb. Kiss 'til we bleed. Don't need a thing.

But our misfit love's even not enough.
Ooh, you want
Ooh, I want
Oh, we want more.
More, more, more

♥ return to full lyric index | return to "Breasticles" lyric index

Touch Tongues

I see you in the aisles. I see you in the streets. I see you checking all your redundant machines. You're just touching base, touching down to feed. You're touch-up's now, bling-bling I.V., but you are safe. You can rest. You can wrap this around like your permanent skin vest.

You're one of us. You're one of us. You're one of us.

You hate to eat, hate that love fades, hate you can listen to Joan Rivers' fashion taste. You wish all your thoughts weren't programmed to be increase the human R-A-C-E, but you can't escape. You're welcome, dear. You finally realized you were always here.

You're one of us. You're one of us. You're one of us.

I know it's difficult to be so typical.
So, tip-tip typical over and pin-up, shake-down, stop-short
to break some new ground.
And it's just pitiful and all too typical.
You tip-tip typical, jump-in and push-up, drop-down over-
come as we touch tongues.

Remember back when you never felt right. You always felt like you were on the outside. But, "out" has an "in" where it pays to be from outer-S-P-A-C-E. Now, you can't believe how much no one's weird, and how much you used to want to hear,

You're one of us. You're one of us. You're one of us.

So, breathe, and bleed.

So, breathe, and bleed.
You are never to run, never to think,
Never U-N-I-Q-U-E.

♥ return to full lyric index | return to "Breasticles" lyric index

Bite Down

You want to get to me.
You want to know my mind,
so you can sell me shoes,
so I can walk the line.
But I’m a hurricane
outside your window pane.
And I’m an untapped vein
bursting from the strain.

Chorus:
Bite down, child.
Come on, run wild.
You feel this. I’m telling you.
Juiced up, charged,
but just ignored,
You need this.
It’s killing you.

You want a piece of me.
You want to shoot my youth
straight to video.
Pays for your new bathroom.
But I’m a tiger’s tooth.
Somebody cut me loose.
And I’m insane voodoo
knocking at your boot.

Chorus

Bite. Take a bite.
Bite. I’m a biter.

Chorus (repeat)

♥ return to full lyric index | return to "Breasticles" lyric index

We Are The World (Why KY?)

Let’s make the break tonight, tonight!
We’ll show ‘em just what we’ve got. We sing and dance…fa la la la la…
and our star quality’s hot.
So you pause your mom’s tivo, and I’ll pound my piano, oh oh.
Direct HIT! Ha ha ha ha ha.
Hold on to your remotes. It’s God-given control.
It’s magical…ta da da da da…da da da

We won’t ask ‘em what they want.
We’ll tell ‘em what they need…and they need us.

Chorus:

It’s late. I can’t wait to rock the piano like a tight guitar.
You wonder why, why, why KY?
Don’t wait. It’s too late.
They used to write me off, always called me bizarre
But now it’s why, why, why, KY?

Let’s set it straight, alright, alright!
Bust out our Game Boy plays and blow them away…na na na na na…
‘cause that’s all we do everyday.
We’ll wear our scary Hot Topic clothes, a rebel look more than 30 years old…
Revolt by rote…uh uh uh uh uh!
We reserve the right to everything in sight
to toss aside…ah ah ah ah ah…ah ah ah

We won’t ask ‘em what they want.
We’ll tell ‘em what they need…and they need us now!

Chorus:

Oh no, it’s different, and that’s so scary.
But we can change that. Now that’s too scary.
They didn’t listen to Michael Jackson.
We are the world.

♥ return to full lyric index | return to "Breasticles" lyric index

Wake The Dead

I was pulled to this world,
Keane-eyes-saucer-wide…..with wonder.
Let me taste it, eat it,
roll around and be it………the wonder.
Oh, my Lord, more is more…of wonder.
“How many slaps ‘til she will
watch TV and sit still?”…..they wondered.

Those catatonic minds surround, but never move at all.
Now, we’re not of their kind, you know.
We never were at all.
Oh, I just want to scream and wake the dead. Wake the dead. Wake the dead.

I’ll wear red patent boots,
and let you all the news…the wonder.
Busta Rhymes saved my life.
Bela Bartok’s the light….of wonder.
Oh, my Lord, can I get bored?…I wonder.
“Unless it’s kept in 4/4,
how can they hit the dance floor?”…they wonder.

Those catatonic minds surround, but never move at all.
Now, we’re not of their time, you know.
We never were at all.
Oh, I just want to scream and wake the dead. Wake the dead. Wake the dead.

Spoken:

You know, I would just try not to think about it.
I would just do what I had to do.
Most of the time, it didn’t even feel like it was me.
It was like watching a movie.
And before I knew it, it was 10 years later.

When I’m glad, I’m so bad, I strip and dance.
And when I’m sad I strip and I dance.
But, when I’m mad, expected to strip and dance,
To show my freedom…I dance and strip.

Those catatonic minds surround, but never move at all.
Now, we’re not of this time, you know.
We never were at all.
Oh, I just want to scream and wake the dead. Wake the dead. Wake the dead.
Wake the dead.

♥ return to full lyric index | return to "Breasticles" lyric index

21st Century Ride

Give a damn just once again. Don’t you mind,
it’s fine. It’s time to leave the lullabies
behind. Don’t cry for the seventies,
eighties, nineties. Let’s grow some brand new teeth.

Chorus:
Baby, jump on a 21st century ride,
hands up and feel… woo-hoo-hoo.
Baby, come on, it’s a thrill, the time of your life.
Hands down you’ll feel …woo-hoo-hoo.

Hey, it’s true. The news hit this year’s ‘who’s who’
to-do. To view, people seem confused
and doomed, a tomb with award statues,
cartoons of past moons singing nothing new.

Chorus

I’m on Planet 8.
on the flying car freeway.
I’ll shoot past Planet 9,
Woo-hoo-hoo.

Chorus

♥ return to full lyric index | return to "Breasticles" lyric index

Rock Radio

You’ve been popped, rock radio.
Used to want to burn and shock, now you’re status quo.
And you have to have a cock for rock radio,
But you say you just
Do what you gotta, do what you gotta do , you do.

Ever since I was ‘bout 3 foot 5
I’d get that sick feeling deep inside
Until I’d say when something just aint right.
Now I’ve got words to puke.
Do what you gotta, do what you gotta do, you do.

Shake it down.
Yeah, rock radio’s a boy’s clubhouse
With a sign in front “no chicks allowed
Unless they’re dancing.
Do what you gotta, do what you gotta do, you do.

Do what you gotta do, yeah.
Tough titty.
Do what you gotta do yeah.
It’s a pity.
Do what you gotta do, yeah.
Said the kitty but the milk tastes good.
Do what you gotta do, yeah.
Tough titty.
Do what you gotta do, yeah.
It’s a pity.
Do what you gotta do, yeah.
Said the kitty but the milk tastes good.

You’ve been popped, rock radio.
Used to want to burn and shock, now you’re status quo.
And you have to have a cock for rock radio.
But you say you just
Do what you gotta do , what you gotta do, you do.

So you know,
I have always loved my radio.
Was my first love to share my pillow.
So I say this with love.
Do what you gotta, do what you gotta do , you do.

Prick your ears.
Let me tell you you are no frontier.
That’s what happens building barriers,
So hip-hop hoo-ray.
Do what you gotta, do what you gotta do, you do.

Do what you gotta do, yeah
Tough titty.
Do what you gotta do, yeah.
It’s a pity.
Do what you gotta do, yeah.
Said the kitty but the milk tastes good.
Do what you gotta do, yeah.
Tough titty.
Do what you gotta do yeah.
It’s a pity.
Do what you gotta do yeah.
Said the kitty but the milk tastes good.

Yeah, it’s safe on the formula.
It’s safe drinking that formula.
But, don’t you want a taste of the real thing?
Tough titty said the kitty but the milk tastes good,
Put some nourishment back into your food.

You’ve been popped, rock radio.
Used to want to burn and shock now you’re status quo.
And you have to have a cock for rock radio
But you say you just
Do what you gotta do what you gotta do what you gotta

The point, extreme, the edge, the zoo.
Names, not you.
Oh----------------------
The point, extreme, the edge, the zoo,
Make some room
Oh---------------------
The point, extreme, the edge, the zoo,
Names, not you.
Oh---------------------
The point , extreme, the edge, the zoo,
Make some room.
Oh--------------------

♥ return to full lyric index | return to "Breasticles" lyric index

Valuable

I just always thought that he lived by the creed of the primal,
“You never live by what your body rids and you hide what you’re able”.

But, when I grew legs he came runnin’ for me……..please.

It kills me. What makes me so valuable now?

Then, I was with this…boy, and you’d think that I was his sister.
I just only was in the next room, but he never thought, “I’ll go kiss her, kiss her, kiss her.”

But, as I break free he says his broken heart bleeds…..please.

It kills me. What make me so valuable now?

Stop now.
Look and see what you got right now,
what might be there, but you can’t see.
Poor boy,
You can’t see that you’re a rich boy.
You live your life arriving breech.

You kill me. What makes me so valuable now?
You kill me. What makes me so valuable now?

Male, but female
looking over your shoulder
dead and stagnant
always thirsting
statue in the desert……………..hee, hee, heat.

♥ return to full lyric index | return to "Breasticles" lyric index

Automatic Love

I know girls who just can't get around
the
symbolic power-play of going down.

Me, well, just the thought gets me worked-up.
So,
fill my mouth up when I won't shut-up.

You wanna pull my hair?
Automatic love,
knock-me-up-feet-bare.

Automatic, rocket, baby. Come and get me.
I want nothing more
than to make me feel good.

Call me spastic, super-plastic, but come and get me.
I want nothing more
than to make you feel good.

I'm so tired of girls saying they're strong.
Strong?
If you've got to say it you are wrong.

It's best, I think, to be the underdog.
In
front and under, pushed into the wall.

I wanna iron your shirts,
instinctive response,
while you pull-up my skirt.

Chorus:

Instrumental bridge:

Time is wasting….(continue chorus)

♥ return to full lyric index | return to "Breasticles" lyric index

Breasticles

Hey, what did you do for your money?
I know you've got breasticles.
And now you're mid to late twenties
and got your cataracts off.

Always wore the fantasy,
"you can be what you want to be",
but dreams are won like lotteries;
rarely.

But, yeah, nobody loves you like I do.
I'll set you free, free, free, free.
You know the way I am.

Yeah, nobody hurts you like I do.
I'll make you free, free, free, free.
You know the way I am.

Hey, what won't you do for the money?
Show me your breasticles.
America's not happy
eating all the cake it wants.

Everyone's on anti-downs,
but our poor are fat and round.
I know we are the world-wide clowns
with frowns.

But, yeah, nobody does you like I do.
I'll set you free, free, free, free.
You know the way I am.

Yeah, nobody kills it like I do.
I'll make you free, free, free, free.
You know the way I am.

♥ return to full lyric index | return to "Breasticles" lyric index

Incubator

Guess you could say I’m not exactly maternal.
If something’s growing inside me…
I call it a tumor, baby.

Attached to my organs, like a tick or a tapeworm feeds,
courtesy should let me deflate the leech,
eech, eech.

I’ll stick in my thumb and pull out a plum
I’ll stick in my thumb and pull out my son.

Oh, can’t make me…
I’m not an incubator.
Oh, oh, oh, can’t catch me
to plant your seed.

There are men who will hunt me,
hypnotize me with love,
so I will show less resistance to their
life-stealing baby gun.

Sometimes it’s depressing,
it can get me down, to know my
reason for being is to be an
oven one day.

I’m not one, I will run
I’m not one, I’m no fun.

Oh, can’t make me…
I’m not an incubator.
Oh, oh, oh, can’t catch me
to plant your seed.
Oh, can’t make me…
I’m not a baby maker.
Oh, can’t catch me
to plant your seed.

I need every little drop of life
if I’ve got to live this life.
I can’t spare a drop of life.
I need it to live this life.

♥ return to full lyric index | return to "Breasticles" lyric index

Saviour

Baby, come inside.
Take off your coat.
You're just a big, fat mess.
You're just an American landfill, landfill.

Can you leave it all behind?
Can you get to what you feel?
Do you need the jaws of life
to cut through the American landfill, landfill?

We could rise-up from this grave.
We could prepare to ascend.
We could walk on water.
I will be your saviour, saviour.

Can you just not wear that dress?
Can you just not get your hair cut like that?
Who picks out your clothes?
Sort through the American landfill, landfill.

We could rise-up from this grave.
We could prepare to ascend.
We could walk on water.
You could be my saviour, saviour.

Are you having trouble breathing?
Did you wake-up to find you're buried,
semi-alive?
Do you need a hand
to dig the American landfill, landfill?

We could rise-up from this grave.
We could prepare to ascend.
We could walk on water.
Be my reciprocal saviour, saviour.

♥ return to full lyric index | return to "Breasticles" lyric index

Flash

They’ve had 6 wives because they believe in love….Flash.
No matter how you praise them, it’s clearly not nearly enough….Flash.
They used to shoot white, now they shoot for the green,
and they try shooting down claims of “closet queen”.
If they died in a big plane crash, you’d hear only their name…Flash, flash, flash.

They’re makin’ a movie ‘cause they’re more than rock royalty.

They have a son who kinda sings like them that caused a bidding war…Flash.
Who had a hit a few years ago, but is such a big bore…Flash.
The dads were bad-ass, now their songs are car ads.
Every time they are run you feel empty and numb.
They’ll tell you that’s the only way kids today know their name…Flash, flash, flash.

It’s just like a movie.
It’s their scene…rock royalties.
While their daughters wear t-shirts
Embroidered “rock royalty”…rock royalty.

They surround themselves with people who are sic-
ophants,
Who question every passerby and think it’s 1976 (hey, the phone’s ringing…ha).
Flash, flash.

They are the theme of movies
They love and hate…rock royalty.
While their cousins want it decreed
They’re pedigreed…rock royalty, rock royalty.

♥ return to full lyric index | return to "Breasticles" lyric index

Buddy Boy

We got off to a bad start
that lead us to a mid-way slump.
Then, in the end, we just choked,
frustrated, tired, always broke.

They said,"You've got what it takes."
They had no doubt that we'd make it , Buddy.
What a mean thing for them to say.
Made us think it was worth it to pay all our time, and money, and the option to be free.

All the invites that I turned down, oh,
all the monthly life discarded, flushed, and drowned.

What do I do now?
Sleep or shout?
It's all the same to me.

"Climb every mountain," they sing.
"Work hard and you'll get your dream," Buddy Boy.
But, what when you've done all you can?
When should you make a new plan for some peace, and beauty, and the option to be free?

What can I say now?
"It didn't work out"?
It sounded good to me.
Sorry, Buddy.

♥ return to full lyric index | return to "X" lyric index