sleeping late I
hear the sad horns of labor truck sigh
my neighbor walks by
high heels click dry
like half a proud horse downbrook
i hear somebody's babbling i mistook
for a cavalry whispering victory
to the sparks in their kindling.
but, but all their green wood's wet and unmet
as of yet by the gases of flame
pressing against the pending physics
of my passed down last name.
living in the tier between two s***es condemned
and one of them many places
you're not i am.
hiding from my friends in the bathroom at thrift town
to write this tune down.
(just doesn't stop)
today after lunch
i got sick and blew chunks
all over my new shoes in the lot behind whole foods
this is a new kind of blues
and what about losing the more loved one in a duel
dissatisfies you or seems just
as a kid i did not s*** my pants much,
why start now with this stuff
and man i do not bluff.
second caller gets bit by a dog or jeff dahmer
kisses of stitiches no mitt for these pitches.
lone pone one master of the cheap pun,
if i'm not raw i'm just a bit underdone.
but i'd be okay, cool as a rail,
if they just let us have health food in hell.
good heavens background radiation
and the black arts awaiting
not the same since i
switched my hair part and started shaving.
got hacksed my hidden hair gone corners
oh i'll never be a joiner life long local foreigner, i.
raw lung homegrown faking co-ed naked choir,
second tenor highest riser blessed clever compromiser.
oh i'll be proudly mouthing watermelon every song
i put the phone to my hear but all's i hears a dial tone.
will they map my skull and wrap my bones when my wig is gone hmmm?
i'll go unknown by torpedo or crohns.
only those evil live to see their own likeness in stone.
my brother said that
i can decide
while i'm alive i'll feel alive
and what's next
i guess i'll know when i've gotten there
.: send by senhor meursault :.
hear the sad horns of labor truck sigh
my neighbor walks by
high heels click dry
like half a proud horse downbrook
i hear somebody's babbling i mistook
for a cavalry whispering victory
to the sparks in their kindling.
but, but all their green wood's wet and unmet
as of yet by the gases of flame
pressing against the pending physics
of my passed down last name.
living in the tier between two s***es condemned
and one of them many places
you're not i am.
hiding from my friends in the bathroom at thrift town
to write this tune down.
(just doesn't stop)
today after lunch
i got sick and blew chunks
all over my new shoes in the lot behind whole foods
this is a new kind of blues
and what about losing the more loved one in a duel
dissatisfies you or seems just
as a kid i did not s*** my pants much,
why start now with this stuff
and man i do not bluff.
second caller gets bit by a dog or jeff dahmer
kisses of stitiches no mitt for these pitches.
lone pone one master of the cheap pun,
if i'm not raw i'm just a bit underdone.
but i'd be okay, cool as a rail,
if they just let us have health food in hell.
good heavens background radiation
and the black arts awaiting
not the same since i
switched my hair part and started shaving.
got hacksed my hidden hair gone corners
oh i'll never be a joiner life long local foreigner, i.
raw lung homegrown faking co-ed naked choir,
second tenor highest riser blessed clever compromiser.
oh i'll be proudly mouthing watermelon every song
i put the phone to my hear but all's i hears a dial tone.
will they map my skull and wrap my bones when my wig is gone hmmm?
i'll go unknown by torpedo or crohns.
only those evil live to see their own likeness in stone.
my brother said that
i can decide
while i'm alive i'll feel alive
and what's next
i guess i'll know when i've gotten there
.: send by senhor meursault :.