so you say you still haven't figured me out, like i'm some kind of puzzle. well, hey, i'll be a mystery, i'll be the ending to the choose-your-own.
you say i'm too genuine, it scares you. well i'll be the stake and you be the vampire.
it's simple, really, it's three and half years of that picture on the wall, the glossy one, the glassy one, the one with the emeralds.
it's three and half years of cigarette nights but oh we forget in the morning because, right,
it was just the liquor.
it was the beer you brought over to my house, the alcohol you stashed under my bed, the weed you stuffed in your pants.
that's all it was, we didn't see through the smoke on the porch so really, i shouldn't be upset.
all drama and i love you and never forget each other and shit.
that's what you've got right?
right.
lucky for you, i never really took off that blindfold of yours.
so you say you still haven't figured me out, well i guess you lost your chance.
just look at that picture, remember? the glossy one, the glassy one,
the one with the emeralds.
that's all you've ever needed.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
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4 comments:
it was just the liquor.
it was free dead like rain
it’s how I roll
I say aright
I’ll see you in little bit I wrote step winkle
Habits are more powerful than fucking, love or hate and leaning on cocaine, calling pot a healthy addiction, he's walking in the rain, you have to think, him soaking wet, you have to know, fake moustache, you feel the fur, he's less than whole and more than human corpse, stinking up the place and making sunshine rust, until day is artificial night, and what was considered holy, now defiled in a cheap make-up heap of sequence and heels. And no matter who lost the battle, he's the war.
fake moustache, you feel the fur, he's less than whole kernal cornwhole cranberry sause full beard mutton chop faces hairy suffocating anatomically correct plastic toy tigers
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