|
|
The truth of the matter isn't always fiery, or common place.
another really, really sad incident is aroused, and then languished.
when the runny goes dark, geologically, I'm fainting.
| | |
|
living, breathing in a realistic place of purposelessness. fortunately I've vanished entirly from the world. now free to roam the streets, despite that I might be forced into absolution. one more grandiose claim for a knotting nobody.
While we're here I would like to provide an answer to Marcus Becker's old as dirt inquiry. Yes, it's true that I don't believe what comes out of my mouth for even a second.
I want to get high all day, every day. there are an incalculable number of different ways to exist and smoking on chronic is my personal affirmation. I fawn over it all with deeply seated external deference and a smile.
| | |
|
Speeding away on that reality bending caboose.
I stand facing you with my jacket, tie and slacks whipping in the wind
darkness stepping in and out, reaching pronouncement.
holding on tight and I know how crazy I must look from your perspective
synonym check please derek
| | |
|
my dedicated heart,
dedicated to pretty much nothing.
I realize I've been using you to get me hung
ha-ha smitten with that feeling of providing
the means of my own passage deep into hell
| | |
| while the buttons load, try and remember that there is nobody there
we are a group of one hanging in the dense garden
under the glass faces of the pyramid
I'm shaking hands with every one and commenting on your face book pages
| | |
|
