They bended zinc into a miniature can
put carbon rods up in the back of a man
he’s licking his prongs, it’s shocking his tongue
he wanted a charged, but it’s making him numb
he don’t know AC from fucking DC

You get a body, but it isn’t for keeps
and every night you gotta die in your sleep
you’ll be excarnated, and still unaware
the seat of your soul is playing musical chairs
you don’t get AC from fluxing DC

Don’t give me AC and say it’s DC
which one will clutch me?
which will release me?
whatever AC,
whatever DC
don’t let it touch me
it won’t release me

They keep sweeping the starlight under the rugs
They keep doping the kids with these invisible drugs
They keep pumping the mud into the sockets and plugs
There’s a dictator born each time a teenager shrugs


What is the sound of one hand slapping
your face before your parents were born

You don’t AC from fucking DC




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The versatile, sonically inventive singer/songwriter is at his most wickedly playful on... Music for Mortals.

-USA Today