He was complicated, with his
dirty blonde hair
with a harbored hatred
for the contrived hypocracy
of stereotypical sentimentality
his humor would ring loud
like the crash of so many wine bottles
he shot the world with his garish
lyrics supported by the grating vocals 
it  made me stumble
I crawled joyful and needy
under his blatant monotone
prayers on knees layn before his
feet

adulation for his manipulation
of sound and destruction of static art
he shot the world with his voice
then he was a bloody pile of
human clay

11/10/2001

Posted on 11/10/2001
Copyright © 2026 Travis G Finborg