Eat Your Television

by Michael Psycho



released April 6, 1993


all rights reserved



Michael Psycho

Old, angry guy and reputedly the world's most hated musician. Creator of DIY classics such as the 1990 vinyl slab named "Think" (re-released on S-S Records in 2014). The world is his playpen. He always gets what he wants in the end. He has the uncanny ability to witness karma and schadenfreude simultaneously. People in "I ♥ Haters" shirts hate him. ... more

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Track Name: Uhhlll
You never gave me anything that I could ever hold

You never gave me anything that ever meant anything

Your phony attitude doesn’t show me anything

And I don’t miss you

I never missed you

I wish I had missed you


You never wanted me to be anything at all

You never wanted anything that made me anything

You never showed me anything to me ever at all

And I don’t miss you

I never missed you

I wish I had missed you

Track Name: If Looks Could Kill
You look so good when you’re playing it hard.

You look so good in the mirror at home.

You’ve got the looks that the kids adore.

You’ve got the style that the kids adore.

If looks could kill, then you’d kill yourself.

You’ve got not problems with yourself.

You’ve got no love, but you’ve got your health.

You know the games and you play them all well

And all the rest of earth can go to Hell.

If looks could kill, then you’d kill yourself…
Track Name: Four Blank Walls
As time has flown away

Some things never change

My sentiment stays the same.

Now that I’ve flown away

Who is left to blame

For what went wrong

So, is it

Just a mirror or

Four blank walls you see today?

Some friends have told me

That I have grieved in vain

Never really known this

“til of late.

Now that I found a way,

I could have skipped the pain

Form what went wrong.

So, is it

Just a mirror or

Four blank walls you see today?
Track Name: Eat Your Television
One more day in as a slave

One less day until your grave

Hardly got your body through the door

Images of perfection

Shooting forth in your direction

‘Til your eyes can’t take it anymore

Eat your television

Stuck all day on your TV

Stuck in some dumb fantasy

Making up for all the dreams you’ve lost

Spend more time than with your wife

Change the channel, don’t change your life

It’s easier than being your own boss

Eat your television
Track Name: See
I don’t see any sense anymore

And I’m trying to see what’s left

Modern man is so lifeless now

I could drown in a sea of milk

Modern man in a city of slums

Doesn’t have much care, just some guilt

Now the city boy just smiles and parties

While his mother’s being raped by the world

I can’t say I feel

That pissed or worse at all

I sit down and try to unwind and

Laugh at this screwed up world

Join the Navy and see the world

I’d as sooner want to see all the wars

In my neighborhood I’ve seen enough

I feel lost in the blinding light of sin

Modern man’s one big run down boulevard

And he’s never ever going anywhere

I feel funny when I think of the future

Used tires and whores everywhere

I believe in living freestyle

Just end up where it sends me

That’s all you’ll see in me

I seem to lose so well

Now you see why I sit here and cry by myself
Track Name: Opiate
Here you are,

A modern folk with modern minds,

Blindly hoping in a man

That still can't be found,

And depending upon his return.

Can't you believe that what he said is true,

Without the fairy tales

And the magic tricks to serve you,

To keep the attention

Of your adoring congregation?

I don't care if he rose from the dead,

As long as he teaches how to live...

Because if one thing is true,

Once you or I die,

We ain't never coming back.
Track Name: I’ll See You Yesterday
Time to end this little war

I won’t come anymore

You’ll never see my face again

Was it hard to let me go

Or did you even know

Or care how much you meant to me

Guess I’ll have to live and learn

How not to get me burned

Just for the sake of love, my dear

You live and learn and learn to live

You take what you get and learn to give

You wish for a second that things would be what they were… once

Guess I’ll go off on my way

I’ll see you yesterday

Was it much too much to ask

That we didn’t move too fast

Or did you only need a friend

Someone to take care of you

Share the thrills and see you through

And be your only lonely one

I couldn’t fit the job myself

So you ran to someone else

Pretending you’re in love again
Track Name: Slamming the Door
O.K. now stop right here

Let me give you kids a hand

Don’t think for a minute

I expected you to understand

So don’t bother to shut me out

I’ll show myself on out

I’ve had enough of you

I know what you’re about

Slamming the door

You seem to pride yourself

On being so unique

But meet someone who’s really real

And watch you start to freak

You talk of freedom

But you don’t know what it means

So keep on looking at yourself

And looking down on me

And keep on

Slamming the door
Track Name: Life (Is What They Make It)
My Life sucks.

My life sucks and I can’t help it.

Track Name: Do I Give You…?
Do I give you the creeps?

Well you can eat my MEAT!

I got the word to me on what you said

You been going ‘round town all talking shit.

You think I’m fucked up? You’re the one who’s sick!

You think I’m weird, well, you can suck my dick!

Do I give you the creeps?

Well, you can eat my MEAT!

I can’t believe all the fucked up things you said

All the drugs you’re taking must be going to your head

No one in this town is going to buy your lies one bit.

You don’t like my attitude? Then eat shit!
Track Name: 007
She tried to get me to admit to stuff she didn't know about 'til

two days before she stank up my stoop

I played along and found out what she was really all about

I should kill you

But I don't really want to

I should kill you

But I'm not really going to

They thought they had it made in the shade

Turn me into another jack fool

After she kicked it from AIDS

I kept ahead of the half-steppers

Now they'd better run

'Cause if they cross my path,

You know they'll get the broomstick.

I should kill you,

But I don't really want to

I should kill you

But I'm not really going to...
Track Name: Iga
IGA knows what you want.

Step into the temple of the almighty IGA.

Please have your sacrificial gift ready in the form of checks, dead

presidents, or United States Department of Agriculture Food


As you wander our many hallowed halls, please pay respect to the

exalted god IGA.

Sure, there are other gods to be worshipped, such as Lucka,

Albertsoni, or Stoppa Shoppa, but these false deities pale in

comparison to the light of the glory of the beauty of the one and only

deity IGA.

Because, unlike other gods of our pagan consumerist society…


Yeah, IGA knows what you want.

He knows when you’re sleeping. He knows when you’re awake.

He knows what you buy.

He knows when you’ve got that big date and need more condoms,

toothpaste and deodorant.

HE knows what kind of food you feed your pets.

He knows when it’s that time of month. He knows all.

Surely, IGA knows what you want.

So give in.
Track Name: Nyah Nyah Nyah Nyah
There are a lot of folks who once I thought were real close friends

Who never try to call or come up to my door.

I guess it has to do with my quitting alcohol and drugs.

They just don’t think that I’m a-happenin’ anymore.

But still, I don’t regret my having given up my substance use,

Despite the fact they think I’m now a bore.

Because not have I learned who my friends really are,

I’ve also figured out what friends are really for.

They’re not convenient dope connections just to score a bag,

Or pitch in money for a twelve-pack every night.

I’m sorry if I started taking stock in my priorities,

And figuring that something isn’t right.

So, to my former party partners, let me tell you all,

I can’t apologize for 20/20 sight.

And if you now consider me as holier than thou,

You’d better watch your words, ‘cause I might prove you right.

The kids around this town see me and think that I’m

a narc or something,

They don’t tryst me ‘cause I’m much too old.

But they’re the ones to talk, like, they have grown up much too fast.

Their garbage culture is already growing mold.

They’ve nothing new to say, they just go retrograde a couple


And they pick and choose what they can use.

If I see one more TV ad for one more CD set of lousy music,

I predict that I will puke.

And when I see kids half my age in retro clothes, I only feel

the styles sucked then, and now they’re even worse.

Like choking on some cultural regurgitated cud,

Like some witch doctor gave the world a potent curse.

It makes me want to pay a shaman handsomely to put a whammy

On those bastard fashion fascists… Oo,

And maybe with a little luck, the economy will collapse

And they’ll be forced to be unemployed grunge bums too.

Some of these rushed limbo types get pissed off when I speak my mind,

Like I’m some threat to their security.

They mumble nasty lies about my sex life underneath my breath,

With lame ass joking threats of killing me.

Ah, but I know that they lack the guts to really take me out.

Yeah, they prefer to pull their nasties covertly.

And plus, they’re scared of being caught and sent to prison

Where they’d have to pay in cigarettes to guard their booties.

And they’re the first to talk about how tax bucks need to build more

prisons (allegedly to get more tough on crime),

While cutting social programs. Gee, that makes a lot of sense.

You all wear watches, but you sure don’t know the time.

You claim to have the answers to the problems that we face,

And there are millions listening to your vocal sounds.

But twenty years from now we’ll be correcting all your damage

While you’re wearing maggots six feet in the ground…

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