I'm going to see The Faint at Numbers this Sunday. I can't wait, it's going to be awesome. I now own all of their cds, they ARE my favorite band, no doubt. I've wandered from band to band looking for one the was right for me, and now I've found "The One". I've listened to nothing but The Faint for two weeks now, I'm so stoked about Sunday. I suggest that everyone check them out, they really are awesome. Here's a sample of the lyrics from every cd, except the Danse Macabre Remix. Syntax Lies (from the Media album) understand, i don't care if i meet you and you don't care if we meet it's just conversation we're not so compatible but at least we know and we don't care syntax lies no difference in art and life just what we say and the order the words go the order they go it's time, we've deeded an aggravist one that wouldn't make us laugh and has severed how we used to speak concepts of language around his waist but more dimensionally versed he has severed how we used to speak call it backwards overlapping ultramodern more slowly they mistook it for religion but the truth unfolds we devote without knowing same language same story the new version is confusing sharp tongue glass blood grammar its comedic we're corrected we need a stoplight division to the next calendar...year it's time, we've deeded an aggravist one that wouldn't make us laugh and has severed how we used to speak concepts of language around his waist but more dimensionally versed he has severed how we used to speak i understand it's just conversation but it eliminates how i really feel. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Worked Up so Sexual (from the Blank Wave Arcade album) i see you work at night, are you sexually amused? what's it like to have a room of guys encircling you? how she moves and how she walks. they all patiently await while the heat from in their pockets could burn marks into their legs. without your needs and your support she'd have a job the same as ours - nothing daring. would she miss a job that's sexual? in every city there are dozens of these clubs where men can go. some people need a little challenge to their fantasies at home. there's a little tiny number on a fold of matches, the ink drips from a little dancer's pen. everybody wants that fold of matches to reinflate their confidence. hey, it is a job, it pays a lot. is it disservicing someone? and is it good to get these men worked up so sexual? older dancers gag at what new talent seems to mean. smaller tits and younger limbs can cause a fit of rivalry. but it is a job, it pays a lot. is it disservicing someone? and is it good to get these men worked up so sexual? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Glass Danse (from the Danse Macabre album) feel the vapor pressure drop as the dark steam pours out the entrance. real cold world is swirling into a club that keeps the life world out. where every sense seems deathly weak from the frozen time you spent in transit. the glass danse world flickers on and the low end thaws you anxious body. maybe i feel detached. i may just look too shy. it's a disinterest not that i'm a timid guy. i call them bodies but, they are attentive too. i feel the social glare. i feel the attitude. watch as mirrors clear themselves with the breath of frigid air that eased in. made up babies all rotate as a siren spins a beam of amber. time sliced beat by beat in a row, in a club, in a line, in the city. the glass danse world flickers on because the cycle happens enough: a baby falls out warm, it's screaming for it's life, and infant tries to danse as it grows up then dies. that's simplified but uh...when your complexion dries, you wake up cold and think, wish it'd been this way. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Southern Belles in London Sing (from the Wet From Birth album) Scarlet boots, the kiss of death Patience and the end of it Blended angels, whispered love Countdown til it's gone, for long Velvet voices, haunting slow Darkened nooks, with bright decor Georgian femmes are gone for weeks Southern Belles in London Sing I'm staring down the Eppley gate Two more days before the plane arrives- And you'll be standing here with your smile Carving up the lobby seats Pushing down the caffiene drinks Checking the arrival screens for yours A hundred feet above the landing There's a girl gliding down She's floating toward me now Her sleeves are all stretching out And the jet is following behind London skids a grinding halt Last night left to spend apart Bags are packed but now for home Stories of the tour unfold Booking Agents Broken Nose Butting heads with creeping dolts Georgian Femmes are gone for weeks Southern Belles in London Sing Southern Belles in London Sing