CameraworldEXITMUSIC 1004
Written, arranged and produced by
Mikel Rouse



01. Fanfare
02. Body and Soul
03. When You Turn Your Face On
04. Scene Machine
05. The World Is Over
06. Interlude 1
07. Missing Women
08. Do Not Break Down
09. Later
10. Gum Life
11. Interlude 2
12. Pure Sugar
13. Bounce To Disc
14. Profit Socket
15. Thai Siege



Visit my page – decorate my rage – be a catalyst for change
Hang my brain – sentenced to a life again
It’s an endless ride on a one way blame train
I say – give the last man a break
a place in vain to hide and rain
A piece of cake and the love earthquake
Body and soul – in the same role
When I transform – when I can go norm –
maybe be a good sport reform
Go through the clouds – baby when I come around
would you ever wanna drop this sound?
Hats Off – to the man with the concrete hand
If you can’t stand what you can’t plan
Ever build a better mouse trap?
tele-flap jack
get her on track
get the monkey off my back
Better be-lieve
momentary relief
from sleep with a finders fee –
But the referee (role played by me)
Never gonna call off sides
penny for your thought rides
maybe turn your insides outside my mind (can climb)

I say – give the last man a break
a place in vain to hide and rain
A piece of cake and the love earthquake
Body and soul – in the same role
When I’m forlorn – when I am reborn –
and I’m tired and torn and callin’ for reform
insert here – through the calm and clear
(may I interject abundance of fear?)
Shake rattle and roll, from the collective memory hole
where the dreams lay claim to the soul
Asleep or awake – at the mercy of goodness sake
and the love earthquake
They’re sellin’ the germ
for a minor return
And the calm that you feel
is a little unreal
Collect the headsets and the TV trays
and the memories of a dozen days
When the motor driven mind is clear
you can count your conscience out of here.
I say – give the last man a break
A piece of cake and the love earthquake


When you turn your face on
and the bargain basement rates on
When you go in outside
make a play for desire
Catapult that flat tire
And come up – to shoot the straight line
Did you ever hear of on time?
Or a dead rhyme?

Maybe it’s in the air
In the metal of constant care
kinda memory management –
with just a little hint of playing to the crowd
makin’ out loud
Bein’ as I come from a little down South
and a little Uptown

My machine was made for speed
and rather than trust the demon seed
Take a letter Maria, address it to my wife
Tell her I didn’t take her life
It took two to tango
and three for off-sides
And a light that binds

When you turn your face on
rough and tumble on in head long
be a motor driven love song
And readjust the date book
and allocate a dead hook
Don’t forget to lock and look – both ways
if you wanna your life in days

When you turn your face on
if the love you had is all gone
Give a little gone wrong
I don’t imagine that anyone hung
By the Gods of all even
and the method begun is a matter of
drop the girl and carry the 1

When you turn your face on
like a multi-colored wigwam
Image like a bright sun
Beat and become – with a letter from a Dear John
rubbing shoulders with the better being bureau
Better be about now

Layer it on –
As a matter of fact – cause it to charm
Make it belong, give it a yawn
as the love machine grinds on
Be of alone and send a rider to none
Beaten like a bright sun
enter out of no one

Meter with the bridge down
make it topless with the right town
Edit with your night gown
Take it on the chin make a motion to imagine
what you thought, however you got caught
Message out of hock
heartache unlock

Give a man a reason
and address it to a season
ticket – or relearn
Reality crash and burn
for a lover U-turn
over the last remains
the song as anyone knows remains the same

Baby go long
As a matter of fact, get all gone
get along gone doggie
and head for reruns
Take a moment to collect your thoughts
and mental blocks
And how about all the twisted plots
that never resolved and never got caught?


When you got time on your hands behind
murder and money and mastermind
Hit it upside of the head rewind
killers and callers of every kind

Capitol memory extra good
given the scene and the neighborhood
Party and painfully knock on wood
greeting and groveling in the mood

Scene machine making the rounds
Scene machine measuring sounds
Scene machine party police
Scene machine gender release

When the bough breaks the cradle fall
Animal stains and magic mall
Media monster comes to call
coming in sizes big and tall

Interview cosmo clear the slate
Validate carnage paper plate
at or about the single rate
Image hotel erotic fate

Scene machine video wall
Scene machine rise for the fall
Scene machine fade into view
Scene machine just for the few…

Single and subtle and afterlife
jigger with olive or twist the knife?
Fatal attraction to drum and fife
Separate radical future wife

Scene machine host of the room
Scene machine marrying soon
Scene machine party of five
Scene machine barely alive


In extroverted seasonal appeal
there’s a different kind of heart is like a wheel
Where people come to play and seek relief
from the mega beta blessing of belief

Take home open office memo worry beads
to the mother/daughter combo set to breed
As they reinvent the cattle on the green
it’s the last filet of progress ever seen

People think they’ll know
People think they’ll feel
People stop and go
People to be real

People think they’ll know the world is over
People think they’ll feel the world is over
People stop and go the world is over
People to be real the world is over

And the silence fits the hard on that you be
an illiterate emotive pedigree
Corporation litigation cop a feel
in the momentary mayhem that congeal

Triple digit in the toilet at your feet
window dressing mondo liter and a beat
Says the father to the only son derail
get a move on get a fix on how to fail

Look above you, it’s development foreseen
by the mountains out of molehills out of means
Bottom feeders and their wives come up for air
and create a modern landscape of despair

And the capitol surrounding their remote
is the method of their madness and their vote
Has the landscape taken over its reward
or has judgment made a house call overboard?


When I talk inside on a humble ride
then I’m gonna fix on a dead matrix
And I will create and I’ll navigate
turn the inside out, what I’m all about

And what’s in the trunk is a missing hunk
of a life that’s gone, life goes off, goes on…
In the matter born of good grief and scorn
is it lingo free, do I dance with glee?

And oblique behavior, shame on me
Cut a rug, a rifle, eulogy
But I give the gift of life surround
Cut me a break, it’s love I’ve found

If I give a lot and I take what not
out for all I need and the time to bleed
I will sacrifice my own paradise
to be in your arms and your three alarms

But you raise your head; better off dead?
I’m confused, confounded; has love rebounded?
I take the high road and graciously unload
negativity free from therapy

I’m single minded and single celled
And I’m fixed on a moment that never rebelled
The night is calm as my secrets touch
The essential problem is I love too much

And the way it feels? No words can say
How a little love can change your day
Mysterious calls like shadows of sound
embracing retreat in a soul rebound


In the site of then
in the can be making better men
Get up over Zen, be a better friend.
In the corner of offend: a tapas living end.

Interpersonal appeal and keep it real
cop a condo feel, encounter age related zeal.
Every healthy check-up is a steal.

Until access new pain-over active weather vain
Run away life is undertrained
non adventure nothing gained.

Do not break down
Do not break down

Travel bouts with fear, lookie here…
I got a mix of comedy clear and then I steer
toward new year-new way to hear

I’m sure that nothing will sell, so what the hell.
When the world fell (replaced by cosmic gel)
cyber take time will tell… oh well

Beginners luck we agree, disaster for a fee
Siesta world wide city and more then likely we’ll see
In fact we’ll pay to see the tragedy.

And why not? It’s a pleasure without a plot
and given all the time we’ve got
we’ll set the clocks back or not
and sell the difference for a lot.

And pony up to bar the last remaining scar
enriching capital, the lager of the mall
Ruby red, a case for dead
Believers head the survey said.


On the table where I live and love and breathe
Pour it one time, pour it two time, I’m in need
Take home living and the TV avant garde
And for fifty years Americana Card

Pour another, I could talk for hours still
Finding obligation listening a thrill?
This was my time now it’s your time get the drift?
Do the bonerific bondage for a gift

In diesel I’m in Motorola mood
indigestion and the hope of lonely food
Call it curtains in denial indiscreet
I am phony full of fire and defeat

I make music for the sedentary set
Geriatric, what you see is what you get
No more tape rewind, no longer sync machine
No imagination here, no groove, know what I mean?

Gidget giddy get it up and get on board
Of the cash cow, Mitsubishi for the Lord
If it’s holiday you’re thinking what’s for me?
You can marry what you murder and be free

Did you bury did you really carry on?
Did you master implication, did you con?
Over acting on an momentary thought
Crystal comfort in the real estate you bought


Carry the hopper back in the wilds of smack
and variety meats, in the place to be
Carravagio and me we agree

In the space of a week we’ll see
how the hope out of poverty…
Calypso and me and the radio beam
for all the world to see

If I counter with a wordless strain
keep you up for days
In the magic of Marais
A Shrilankin dome that we’re calling home
with a platinum relief (chroma-color thief)

In the space of a week we’ll see
as we climb out of poverty
Baudelaire and me and the televised spree
for all of you and me

Graceful and under attack, watch your back
there’s cold in them there hills
From a life of dread
to an unknown bed
A musician lives upstairs

In the space of a week with me
and a gesture to poverty
Boudelaire and me and the radio free
for all the world to see


Pop jargon
adult kindergarten
philosophy Pierre Cardin
He who is without sin cast a hard on

Full throttle
CK1 in old bottle
step up and be coddled
give a shout out to remodeled

Mode outrage
les caravan de’ new age
American in Paris wage
turn apocalyptic page

Pure sugar
shoulda woulda coulda been a Buddha
get my vibe right
theater of uptight (right!)

Pure sugar
meteor meshugena in the limelight
try to get your mind right
polyester ignite (right!)

I’m gonna reembrace amoeba
Possibly date a Libra
masturbate in ether
pay the receiver

Bend the river
publish till I perish
stand in line for John Tesh
meet for lunch at two-ish

God giver
suck up all religion
everybody is forgiven
to listen to Celene Dion and deliver

Milk carton
Ricky beat off martin
make a b-line for the coffin
pop les miracle forgotten


If in fact I get a bumpy
get it up and outside where you want me:
when you touch me be a pleasure puppy.
Give a grease placebo, bueno me amigo
I been up inside your ego, in the place that we go.

You think this is funny?
If you think this personality is sunny
Honey, show me that you want me
Personal stratigo
in the place that we go
baby sans the ego, flip the platter over easy
here comes ring-a-ding-o.

Upside and down your chin
I wanna show you all the angles
where the vision dangles.
Could it be your attitude
that puts me in the mood?
I don’t remember when I’ve given
someone this much latitude.

Don’t split your sides yet
I got more in store for you so forget
automatic lovers and their mopeds
ski slope and then elope.
I got the athletics covered
irreplaceable beloved like the pope

Baby bounce to disc, take a risk
mounting music from a fist
take the group you’re with and
cross ’em off the list
Baby, dance to win and begin
to imagine what you’re in
another decoy on the road to other men.

Super savings – ain’t misbehaving
I been half way ‘round the world engraving
kinda rearranging.
Maybe motion sickness
multi color princess
taken out of context
it’s a miracle I’m in this.

Nights of Cabiria
Fellini needn’t fear me.
All the images in cinema are dead
and nowhere near me.
Light break down to number
digitize your slumber
life becomes a fresco out of movies
dumb and dumber

Heads up I got a better way of seeing
if you don’t know what I mean
take a number human bein’
Baby, bare as a bone and all alone
the flow is on…
You take a ride on this jalopy
when the motor oil is gone.


If I let you touch my profit
my profit socket
Will a life go on and off it
like a rocket?

If I wrestle with rejection
my intersection
Will I vote in the election?
pro erection

If I over easy outlaw
my lonely south paw
Will I miss the empty glass jaw
and the hack saw?

If I redefine the unborn
my shot at lovelorn
Will my exercise in well worn
become still porn?

If I let you touch my profit
my intersection
Will a life go on and off it
pro erection?

If I wrestle with rejection
my lonely south paw
Will I vote in the election
and the hack saw?

If I over easy outlaw
my shot at lovelorn
Will I miss the empty glass jaw
become still porn?

If I redefine the unborn
my profit socket
Will my exercise in well worn
like a rocket?

If I let you touch my profit
my lonely south paw
Will a life go on and off it
and the hack saw?

If I wrestle with rejection
my shot at lovelorn
Will I vote in the election
become still porn?

If I over easy outlaw
my profit socket
Will I miss the empty glass jaw
like a rocket?

If I redefine the unborn
my intersection
Will my exercise in well worn
pro erection?

If I let you touch my profit
my shot at lovelorn
Will a life go on and off it
become still porn?

If I wrestle with rejection
my profit socket
Will I vote in the election
like a rocket?

If I over easy outlaw
my intersection
Will I miss the empty glass jaw
pro erection?

If I redefine the unborn
my lonely south paw
Will my exercise in well worn
and the hack saw?


We are two brothers.
We are bulletproof.
We’re hit-and-run Christians,
and raising the roof.

Fundamentally gunmen,
a notorious cult.
God’s Army reporting
confusion consult.

Chain smoking guerrillas
like twelve year old twins.
A group of believers
recovering sins.

Westerners scramble
their blood alcohol.
Explosions and gunfire
awaiting your call.

Hospital hostage
predicting with shades,
the time and direction
of enemy raids.

Born in the jungle,
commandos at five
my brother laid land mines
rebellion alive.

Kids full of fire,
the story complete
with 200 members,
and God’s county seat.

Baby-faced brothers,
exploding cigars…
The forces of nature
cascading in cars.

Hostage offensive
and medical care
and faith in predictions
that soon would be there.

Christians have risen
a victory grave.
An iron fist rebel
and how to behave.

Swearing forbidden
like kids in the hall
a national union
and comedy call

We are two brothers.
We are bulletproof.
We’re hit-and-run Christians,
and raising the roof

Lyrics © 2001 Mikel Rouse
All rights reserved
Published by Club Soda Music (ASCAP)
Used by permission