I write wrongs and right rhymes.
Your Moms House lmao
Whatever they do find With whomever I don't mind Though I don't believe They must be alien I lost time Swear I'm not blind I look and see Words in the breeze Tongue-tied They oft-lie Telling tales of talking trees Ghosts will moan Beg and plead Selling rhymes But not this guy Not Today I don't got time Not for pizza Not for pie Not for holding others up Just to drop them when I die Today I built a shelf So they can sit there when I'm gone Thinking about nothing While they listen to my songs
Unfocused (not soulless or goalless). I smoke spliffs to get my mind off this list of frustrations. Intimidated by outrageous race racing, flaming faggots nigger-bait while still claiming that they win (but the win's painful). The wind is still unstable. My win is a long table with nothing on it surrounded by fables. "Nothing comes from nothing, Son," 'cept Miracles and Bagels, two billion silent men in four billion different conversations, but know thyself and when you're asked just say that you know nothing. Winter's gone and spring is here The hummingbirds are humming I think I'll make a song today, Son I'm feeling something I'm feeling something.
This morning's protocols Beginning pondering What to do with people on the web. Thus with a deep resolve Maintaining promising Again untrue We will meet again This time she has evolved Now loving squandering Dreams anew Then dreaming to forget Sometimes I can recall Accepting sombering Time wasted In following a trend This time he feels involved Now loving squandering Has a few Then lives in the regret You ever feel withdrawal Oncoming vomiting Bid adieu To all of your old friends I can't say I'm appalled Forgetting honoring Lives wasted Unfollow them in death
Quoth the stone road. “Does a slug judge blood in a cut?” “I’ve seen a sponge pull the snow into it’s lungs.” “How does brush on a bluff approach a shrub?” Roads groan in prose as such that the dove dove and the grove was lush. Lots of berries for the nature boys. Pure love it ’twas.
Just getting laughs from the old guard now Epitaph in town for an old sound It's jokes, man How much we fuck around This place This time Joy that I have found Do a flip Throw a lock Knock 'em down
First there is clay No meaning to a name Strangers will pray Friends prey on their loved ones Some things will change Some feelings can last days Some people say Sometimes it's the rainfall Feet upon the asphalt Back making friends Now who gives their own heart? Hatred instead
If you were a butterfly, you would fly. If you flew over the sky, you would shine. Moons and stars can be your prize, but I've surmised. I love you most when you can read my mind. But yo, It feels like mountains when we climb. A few short steps to springtime, my guy.
Sheep are brainwashed fools Blind to truth within the truth Put jade coloured glasses on Undistort the view Saw it in your neighbourhood? Call in to the news Heard your neighbours arguing? Call in for the troops Acting as we're wise and old Ladies on the stoop Nag and nag and nag some more Until all is good Sheep are awful neighbours Imagine if you would To baa and baa and then Be still misunderstood
A bitter republic weeps out "woe is me," Holding on to hopeless baffling beliefs, Nothing is sacred if it won't fill their needs, Yet when they're finished, they stay on their knees, Speaking aloud "Sir, I want some more." Straight from the movies without saying please.