tendencies of the unknown, by twisted bean Subscribe to rss feed for twisted bean

shoot the moon
melt down my shit into that spoon
tryin to meet my doom
but every time i go to hell they say i come too soon
im always wakin up at noon
half dead drunk and naked in my bedroom
breath stinks of booze
but what else is there for me to do

always some new news being broke to me
like i give a shit
as if i can change something important
that i had nothing to do with
starting to get used to it-
the feeling that i'm somehow connected
as if there's something special on earth
and i've been sent here to protect it
but am i really expected to detect it
does it matter what i do instead
or do i have no choice
why was i born with a voice
if not to shout out loud
if not to make my conscious feel proud

knew how to live my life early
still dont think i'll ever see thirty
so i try to be the best that i can be
sold my soul to the devil when i found out god was dead
now im the queen of the universe
and satan gives me head
i used to want to be a doctor
or a lawyer instead
but whats the point when i have no respect
for my fellow men
Posted: 2010-04-23 23:40:40 UTC

This poem has no votes yet. To vote, you must be logged in.
To leave comments, you must be logged in.