broken.poet.social.circle
why the fuck you wanna hear about my life?
why the fuck do i want to share my world views?
we all know we're heading down for the count...
more blessings than the finger tips you use, to point at your excuses.
it's just another rat race.
yep. i've heard that one before too...
it's all based on your musical taste.
...but like the rest of us we're numb, scum, burnt to a crisp.
...and the rest of us...we feel...play dumb...act rich.
...but the rest of us, we search and hope for pure bliss.
but for the rest of us...we sit. reminisce. on the things that we miss.
it's purely based on the fact that youre comfortable...
your phony pictures, that disguise the things that are wonderful.
mirage got the blind spot. smashed your twenty twenty,
bought into a market that promised good and plenty, losses. empty.
we're caught in a recession.
pushing for a change as we drive our gas away.
while they tell us to answer our own questions...
all the artist in the world will still write letters to the government
screaming for an intervention.
i failed to mention that they wouldnt listen anyways.
you wouldnt listen anyways.
the fact that you won't listen
explains the fact that you are the common consumer.
and the fact that i won't listen...
makes me an artist.
be happy. be free. fly away.
on an all expenses paid permanent vacation.
theres more entertainment on a broken am. radio station.
~ static ~
itchin for a move.
lets sit and watch the tube.
or the news.
and then be more confused.
booze.
the real cupid.
she will never put her lips upon mine like she does to her favorite glass of liquor
to the front to the back you scream for execution.
"join my movement"
when they dont really give a fuck...
they just want to see the following they have created.
............................................
fuck i lost it.
brain dead.
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