Description of R We Done Yet?

This is the original description for R We Done Yet?:

Original Seth Tobocman Design
Seth Tobocman Design

Are We Done Yet? A two person theatre show using (international) folk music and spiritual concepts from around the world to ask a question. As a species, can we be done killing for profit? By embracing the never-ending campaign toward joy, peace, justice and freedom we gain insight into the inexhaustible value of life.

Themes include health, sexuality, commitment, education, confusion, frustration, birth, death and psychic development. The show comines music, ceremony and stand up philosophy to fearlessly honor the unique, sensual mysteries each of us is born to exemplify.

 

46XXXY

Flower pot boys these dolls ain’t toys.
They are used to receive waking dream transmissions.
Plastic horses escape corral,
Crazy-glued horns they’re unicorns now.
Neighborhood pests in the afternoon.
Dynamite mind sets bent for doom.
Prissy boy nickname ricochet battleground,
Everybody rattled out, hide your soft side.
Kid Farside alone if he could
Making all day trips to the west side wood
Walked up on by the eighth grade class
Dancing by the river in a wedding dress.

Estrogen, estrogen. Doctors came and questioned him.
Testing blood and chromosomes, injecting in testosterone.
“Tell us what you want, and we’ll tell you why it’s wrong”,
With the prods and the pokes and the long, hard looks
Hushed tone talks and “honey, take a walk while we
Chart your condition in our clip board books.”
Soon as he was able, headed for the train.
Don’t complain you just grab the reins.
Heard if you can make it, there’s always been a place
In the heart of Fringe City for boys who rock lace.

CHORUS:
Calling for a rule book rewrite
No hard line between girls and boys
It’s a wide spectrum as proven by
Chromosome forty-six triple-X Y

Nest-headed girl rude lip, hard ball
Dirty hands, bloody knees and a broke tooth smile
BMX-ing construction piles. Dares that she barely just survives.
Hits the trail, hits her moon,
Ditch routines that you can’t resume
Made it to the coast with the wits she had
Dying brake pads, thousand mile ride.
Seized-up fried and dies, but all good,
One last stretch she can make by foot.
Work boots stomp stink-weed glass,
Results to deliver in a welding mask.

Nitrogen, glycerine, substitute for estrogen
Super-octane testosterone
Distilled by the mother of the one-eyed crone.
Androgynous secrets under told
Provide the fuel to re-cast the mold.
She is of the ilk that’s wild and bold,
Who’s endeavors have enabled us all to unfold.
Games don’t tell the boys from the girls.
Looks don’t tell the women from the men.
Been that way since the end of the world,
It’ll be that way ’till we start again.

CHORUS

Wake Up

fighting biting out o control
loosin my teeth losin my soul
the old witch knows what i’ll go through
she’s seen the end and she’s telling me to

wake up wake up

ghastly ass attitudes come to bed
every night i go head to head
personification fear and greed
toss me aroun like a tumbleweed

wake up wake up

runnin around with a heart of foam
achin and shakin i only roam
through the ruins of the danger zone
hell in a bathroom i have no home

in this dream i’ve been havin for weeks
the old crone grabs me by the cheek
pulls me close and begins to talk

i’m a beautiful body but nobody will look
i’m a bus full o kids rollin off the dock
i’m accused of murder but i can’t talk
i’m allowed to leave but the door is stuck

i’m ablunt gettin smoked and i can’t wake up
i’m a truck on a hill and i can’t stop
im’ assuming the worst cause it always reverts
and i’m certain that my bubble is about to burst

wake up wake up

mysteruous deats in ya family tree
question marks in ya ancestry
has one o yall ever died peacefully
only ever stories o tragedy

wake up wake up

buckets of blood spilled by
women who give the evil eye
if i’s not a chase it’ll be a fight
hope i never dream tonight

wake up wake up

i’m gonna change these wayward ways
with which i’ve lived for ten thousand days
memory is basically a stressfull haze
runniun from the demons i’m supposed to face

wake up wake up

Words by Rivka and Mike iLL
Music by Mad Happy
Copyright BMI

Truckstop Honeymoon

it ain’t like things changed much once we hit the road
being too broke for a coffee and a roll
that don’t slow you down, just more o-the same stubborn forward march
maxxed out cards and empty bank accounts, only leave a psychic mark
late morning in the parking lot at a place called flying j
nuzzled under the interstate with an all you can eat buffet
aside from the sun, noone cares if we sleep till twelve or one, and
the drive, town-ta-town, helps me forget where i came from
wasn’t raised on a runcible spoon
a year and a day on a truck stop honeymoon

everything we had to spend
we spent on a one way ticket
now we’re down and out, high n’ dry
with nuthin’ but our looks to get us by

if i’m gonna starve tonight
then i wanna starve by your side
drinkin’ truck stop coffee
and i tell you it’s all right
you know that you look gorgeous when ya’ cry

if this is what they call freedom i’ll take it
if this is bad as it gets we’ll make it
every single turn somethin’s testin’ me
fates just jealous cause we’re spendin’
all our time chasin’ signs for destiny

we were nearly half insane and broke down
by the time we left our strange hometowns
living at the edge of bored to death in a place called no surprise
where the only thing that ever changes is what gets you high
I’d already kicked dope and crack and a bad slut habit… twice, at least
and i’d just been replaced by a proper queen at a west side hair salon
if we had what to lose, it was getting old on mary-jane and jack
and away was the only worthwhile place to get.
wasn’t raised on a runcible spoon
a year and a day on a truck stop honeymoon

if i ever knew your strength
if i ever believed in your resolve
to achieve even your wildest dreams
nothing is as dire as it seems

even as the sky turns pink
on another night here at the brink
we’ve got love to make
records to break
nothin’ but romance to fill the hours

if this is what they call freedom i’ll take it
if this is bad as it gets we’ll make it
every single turn somethin’s testin’ me
fates just jealous cause we’re spendin’
all our time chasin’ signs for destiny

Words by Rivka and Mike iLL
Music by Mad Happy
Copyright BMI

R We Done Yet?

CHORUS:
Bing (x9) … clack. (repeat x 3.5) Are we done yet?

Dragged off to war again, fighting for who?
What profit be gained by the rough-trodden poor?
Around the world, battlefield to rock,
Won with a stacked deck, but came back sick.
Sub-divided a faded community, Turtle Isle
Occupation is real, demolition is final
Refugee, tent city, growin’ up homicidal.
Head bowed, road block, game of survival.
SInged before they learn about birds and bees
Reading books of recipes, IEDs (improvised explosive device)
Strap on toys, girls and boys. No reward in a moldy revenge.
Stories spin out like carnival art
Thirsty militias too young to be mortal.
Bellignorant soldiers can’t wait to practice
The latest techniques learned in the belly of the

Bing… clack. Are we done yet?

Economic hit men scour the planet
Worldwide international liability limited
Planting piles of well laundered arm-for-drug money
Overwhelming abilities, fragile economies.
Insurmountable debt, exploding interest.
Poisonous networks spun to drain assets
Infant formula, instant food and cigarettes
Infantile infrastructure’s verging on collapse
Puppetry government, brink of civil war
“Kill that’s what we gave you the goddam guns for.”
Aim at the charismatic, meddlesome poor.
Run out of bullets, factories always making more.
Three hundred-sixty-five days a year
Deep behind chain link fence and razor wire
The ominous sounds of mechanized gear
Don’t you know what they’re doing in there?

Bing… clack. Are we done yet?

Higher than money can buy, wings can fly
Smoke can rise, the price of life let’s make it higher.
Peace and Justice!

Billion dollar babies born in a cloud lining procured
With the proceeds of strip mining, bomb designing
Lookin’ at the world through telescopic lens
Maids, body guards, chauffeurs: best friends
Ivy league school, international finance
Government contract, tune of Pomp and Circumstance
Wink-n-a-handshake. Learn to recognize a brother.
Media and legislators lubricating one another.
People got a masters of the universe complex
Thinkin’ it’s their dirty job to hand out life-n-death
Builders of the prisons, drug importers, they’re the same crew,
Cops hands tied meeting quotas set by you know who.
Me and you, what are we supposed to do, Walk
around the capitol with a lotus flower & a sign that says Boo?
Jam the machines with hate monger magazines
Confetti for the last of the ticker tape gatherings.

Bing… clack. Are we done yet? Higher, etc.

Phantasy

Drinkin’ beer by the liter in an X rated theater;
I need a Phantasy Uninhibitor.

Deep inside my dirty heart
My sexuality is a secret even from me
Really especially see when an
Erotic phantasy enters my mind
Got to stop it first check an’ see if it’s the right kind
Because there’s rules, dictated by society.
They vary from place to place and person to person
But for certain there is always what’s considered bizarre
Perverse, unnatural or goin’ too far
I think I need a mystic
Faster and slicker than an undercover
Hipnotist, dippin’ into unconsciousness
To help negotiate between imagination, ego and libido
Let me leave aside the bottle, straw and needle.
Alcohol, heroin, cocaine, adrenalin
Tools of release from social demands
That may be in opposition to instinctual demands
Leave me with a gag on my mouth, and shackled hands.
Unable to express, this is who and how I am.
Will I ever find some happiness
Caught in the axis of praxis and stasis
The stuff that I chase is the stuff that erases.

Drinkin’ beer by the liter in an X rated theater;
I need a Phantasy Uninhibitor.

My steamy, creamery dreamies
Populated with casts of outcastaway archetypes of all types
Peter Pan, Mary Poppins, Uncle Sam, Christopher Robin
Joan of Ark, Gertrude Stein, Peter Parker, John Divine
Aphrodite, Yemaya, Don Quixote, Amen Ra
Headed toward the Emerald City
Packed inside a fire engine
Someone turns around says
Don’t let me forget to mention
“I saw the light, I saw the light
“No more darkness, no more night.”
We take flight and the sky becomes ocean
Soon I see a siren sittin’ on a dolphin
Facin’ his tail, leanin’ over his fin,
Gettin’ his spout in a certain position.
Awake to a freak in boys underwear
Givin’ head to a slob with matted black hair
Somewhere out here near 42nd street,
Floor stickin’ to my feet,
Fallin’ in and out o’ sleep…

Drinkin’ beer by the liter in an X rated theater;
I need a Phantasy Uninhibitor.

Fantasy Uninhibitor
Helpin’ me discover my fears and desires
Things I never would’a expected to be thinkin’ about
Comin’ out, freakin’ me out, it’s all allowed.
I need a license to explore my inner core,
Always hidin’ in the closet is gettin to be a bore.
I need a permit to hunt for and open door,
Because closets are for clothin’ not for me anymore.
So anyway, all we are tryina say is
Can’t we go crazy responsibly
Feel how it feels to be free of mental penitentiary
Is this really how it’s meant to be
Stewing in self-prescribed chemistry.

Drinkin’ beer by the liter in an X rated theater;
I need a Phantasy Uninhibitor.
Drinkin’.

Words by Rivka and Mike iLL
Music by Mad Happy
Copyright BMI

Mid-July Mania

beat, can’t sleep summer heat and the blurry vision
very weary bleary eyed tried by the television
news shows cop shows paid advertisements
late night religious nut’s spiritual advising
sending me in to a skeptic’s fit
like the end is nigh, and i think i’m down for it
who the hell is president? what does he do? what does it mean
vote for x – it’s all the same, rearrange the balls an’ chains

as if it really mattered
another night thinkin how to change the world
Lows are so low so when i get up i wanna
Lows are so low so when i get up i wanna
Lows are so low so when i get up i wanna
Lows are so low so when i get up i wanna hold it

Words keep oozing out of me like fluids out o’ corpses
threatening to drown me in neurotic neurosis
sit amongst friends silent and embarrassed
insecure beneath the weight of social paralysis
time flies. fine, i’m waitin’ta get left behind
mentally composin’ a goodbye to my dear mind
things are really comin’ to a head here what’s ahead is unclear
probably more of this wear and tear, need and fear

as if it really mattered
another night thinkin how to change the world
Lows are so low so when i get up i wanna
Lows are so low so when i get up i wanna
Lows are so low so when i get up i wanna
Lows are so low so when i get up i wanna hold it

All I’ve really been tryin a do here
is let out some pain
an’ there really aint nothin new here
just tears in the rain

the beat don’t stop till the break of dawn
walk the city streets till it’s all night long
no pity sleeps on my broken lawn
just a preacher preachin ’bout where ya been
whatcha been doin an how it’s a sin
but there’s no such thing as evil and i show no shame
hang my guilt in a gilded frame
take a look at what the cat dragged in
straight faced hustlers
n’ hard luck whores

wired, tired, un-in-spired and i

don’t know why i’m talkin cause you probably heard it all before
bet it’s been put better by a def-er dead competitor
competing for the minds ear of the disenfranchised
disenchanted literate academeans that I pine for
here the attention and respect and admiration of
anything for eternal life is that alot to ask for?
things are really coming to a head here what’s ahead is unclear
probably more o this wear n tear, n needy fear

as if it really mattered
another night thinkin how to change the world

All I’ve really been tryin a do here
is let out some pain
an’ there really aint nothin new here
just tears in the rain

lows are so low
so when i get up i wanna
lows are so low
so when i get up i wanna
lows are so low
so when i get up i wanna
lows are so low
so when i get up i want to hold it

Words by Rivka and Mike iLL
Music by Mad Happy
Copyright BMI

Oozin’ FrankenProphetics

all night oozing a a a a a acid electrified a a a a a acid oozing all night

rattling light bulb, bent beam of light
noon o’clock peace pipe, twenty hour night.
haven’t had a minute to mind, my own business since
three o’clock this morning that was takin’ a hit .
system alert reads vitamin depletion
hope that this session is, nearing completion
interstellar highs, and disconcerting lows
sound of drums beating and super nova braincells so
many revelations came and went so fast
nothing but the blur from the future and the past
eyes became globes of multicolored light
and the walls became windows, and the mirrors liquid gas
all whispered secrets, i could almost grasp
yelled “thank y’all, think i get it at last”
the sun rose called it, moon knew my name
everything in the universe a, dream or a game
all emotions a choir in my chest, till
pain and confusion the only ones left.
the color of a light bulb after its been fried
perfectly describes what’s going on inside
rattling rattled jacked up shootin’ sparks
half resurected frankenstein loose parts

all night oozing a a a a a acid electrified a a a a a acid oozing all night
all night oozing a a a a a acid electrified a a a a a acid oozing all night

bred to spend life pickling in a think tank
gonna hack the code reprogram the brain bank
balancing th’ mind body fraction ev’ry act shouldn’
only be the product of a giant chain reaction
we just numbered faces line of falling dominos?
think i just figured out wow! how the equation goes:
e=mc squared divided by
why cubed to the power of what now?
found the answer but it’s slated for rejection ’cause
get a lot more use if i remembered what the question was
wouldn’t need to wonder what the wonder was about if only we could
only see around or through the wall of fear and doubt
nicotine notions, unwarranted emotions
who needs sleep when you got these magic potions
mad more streams effervescent mind fall
holographic images reflected by the disco ball
saturday night fever monday morning shiver
i become, a believer someone take me to the river and drop
me in the waves yo i heard Isis saves
feels like i’ve been pulled, from multiple graves
sewn together with electrifed chain
circuit breaker belly, fuzbox brain

all night oozing a a a a a acid electrified a a a a a acid oozing all night
all night oozing a a a a a acid electrified a a a a a acid oozing all night

whoa what a wild, wet, windy night
eight hundred volts an’ we’re still not fried
still a rough ride, gettin’ to the bedside
you asleep? wide awake. ‘least we tried
excuse me would you lick my lightening bolt?
The one I was throwin’ last time you was blowin’
it’s hard bein’ a god in a hollywood world
so glad to help, lemme lighten your load
every so often ya gotta get off
this planet that spins, never slows or stops
what’d you just say? i guess i forgot.
i think it was brilliant… of course… or not.
gettin’ off the planet and out’ the rat race
we can make it happen if we work as a team
i’ll ride u an’ u ride me
i’ll be the rhythm and u b tha beat
i’ll be the necklace you be the beads
i’ll be the drumming and you be the dance
i’ll be the question u b the answer
a yin-yang hang in the 4th dimension
the teseract swing, the timestar stomp
double-click soft drive digital dump

Words by Mike iLL and Rivka
Music by Mad Happy
Copyright BMI