“When you were a little kid
Did you ever lock yourself in the closet?”
Syntax disturbs intentional message
He locked himself up in the bathroom
Naked
With a few papers
A pencil, I assume
And his glasses on
I hadn’t knocked for hours
And didn’t ask him how his time was
When he emerged
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Poetry without gesticulation.
3 comments:
sounds like something i would say. hey, come to think of it, sounds like something i would do.
dead louisiana boy
if you want me
to be your baby's mama
if you want me
to move to louisiana
well alright! here i come
here i come, yeah
i hit you sideways
i hit you upstage
you hit me with a heart attack
you hit me and i hit you back
so take that!
heart attack!
take that!
take it on a roll with your gun rack, yeah!
i didn't sleep at all last night.
my eyes are red and my knuckles are white
i'll bloody your lip with the beat of my heart,
a deer in the headlights, a truck in the dark
(speeding through the desert in the heat of the day,
better pack her bags, put her pictures away,
gonna make it to louisiana or bust,
driving my eighteen wheels of lust
driving my eighteen wheels of lust)
a look out! look out! look out!
i didn't slow down when i caught your eye
it was a beautiful thing to watch you fly
i was surpised by how much blood you shed
but it seems to me like you're already dead.
well, don't look like you're so fucked up!
it's a blessing to be hit by a truck
don't look like you're so fucked up!
it's a blessing to be hit by a truck!
your face is herbacious.
if vodka was a fuel
you'd be an suv
with leather seats
inefficient
luxurious
and fun to drive
(power steering?)
(cruise control?)
50 gallon tank.
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