when I wake up in the morning,
I look to find a new reason to breathe,
an inspiration never before seen,

as I cut boxes through the salty middle day,
I tend to dream of moments that cant be explained,
its break time, I need 3 cigs so I can see straight,

now I'm swerving badly on my way to Baco,
dosing off now and then, caring little where it ends,
needing to break a bottle on my face at end the day,

I cant help but feel like a delivery boy,
who can only bring navel lint and paste,
but thats ok,

It's only ok because I say so, only because I'm living
for me, and by the way Fuck You
push me again, shove my patients to the brink,
acting like your shit doesnt stink.

05/19/2003

Author's Note: this is my latest comment to the world around me.... minus those I love, Davi, killa crystal, and my tool cds... I am an acrid bowl of thistle, and I smell of boones farm:)

Posted on 05/20/2003
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