Paper clip hairstyles
born-again saints
reciprocal rodeo clowns
and simple lead fakes
I live for the disk jockeys
the rulers of my spare time
and i live by the moon
walking on a close-line.
trying to envision
a simple memory
melancholy dreams
clearing out my insides blindly
trying for the stars
is simply out of reach
sentenced to pain and pure hatred
in my own wonderland
sugar packet psychology
chocolate and strawberries
monsters and kings
seducing milkmen
and fairytale things
half heads surround me
to piss on my fire
and murder desire
send serpents on military missions
to poison the meek
tie off and restrain
blind, worthless, and weak
like myself
no time to show emotion or speak
of all the lonely people
sad green eyes
cry at night
cry out to symbolize sweet revenge.
on the voices in her head
to tell her not to show emotion
or he'll leave her for dead
her weakness is pop-rocks and coke
leftovers and crumbs
and stupid blonde jokes
stranded on an island
with the remote in reach
and living on starvation
while prone to complication
they call it hand-puppets of god
I call it his own evil toy
his work in progress
unfinished business
spell misery...
R-O-L-A-I-D-S
relieve liberty
and forget your nations problems
are you waiting for someone
to forget your sorrows
and love someone else
So do something
yet do nothing
helpless and weak.
