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Artist: Bad Religion
Song: Epiphany
Genre: Punk Rock


A new age of reason
Brain treason to trick the mind
What good is searching
if nothing's there to find
We arrive at this place
of no return my brothers
Only to discover that our minds have led us away
so far from the painful truth
of who we are

What's right is wrong
what's come has gone
what's clear and pure is not so sure
It came to me
All promises become a lie
all that's benign corrupts in time
The fallacy
of Epiphany

Come forth bear witness
see the profit from your loss
Beg for forgiveness
only after you tally the cost
We arrive at this place
of no return my sisters
Only to discover that our values ran us aground
on the shoal in the sea of what
we could be

What's right is wrong
what's come has gone
what's clear and pure is not so sure
It came to me
All promises become a lie
all that's benign corrupts in time
The fallacy
of Epiphany

If it's real for me do I have to prove it to you
Why do revelations fade to cold blue untruths
It's oh so relative
Subservient in total to one's perspective

What's right is wrong
what's come has gone
what's clear and pure is not so sure
It came to me
All promises become a lie
all that's benign corrupts in time
The fallacy
of Epiphany
Always failing me

Artist: Bad Religion
Song: Stranger than Fiction
Genre: Punk Rock


A febrile shocking violent smack
And the children are hoping for a heart-attack,
Tonight the windows are watching,
The streets all conspire,
And the lamppost can't stop crying,
If I could fly high above the world,
Would I see a bunch of living dots spell the word stupidity,
Or would I see hungry lover homicides,
Loving brother suicides,
And Ally Ally Oxenfrees,
Who pick a side and hide?

The world is scratching at my door,
My morning paper's got the scores,
The human interest stories, and the obituary, o yeah

Cockroach naps, rattling traps,
How many devils can you fit upon a match head?
Caringosity killed the Kerouac cat,
Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction

In my alley around the corner,
There's a wino with feathered shoulders,
And a spirit giving head for crack and he'll never want it back,
There's a little kid and his family eating crackers like thanksgiving
And a pack of wild desperados scornful of living

The world is scratching at my door,
My morning paper has the scores,
The human interest stories, and the obituary, o yeah

Cradle for a cat, Wolfe looks back,
How many angels can you fit upon a match?
I want to know why Hemingway cracked,
Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction

Life is the crummiest book I ever read,
There isn't a hook, just a lot of cheap shots,
Pictures to shock, and characters an amateur would never dream up

Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction