Friday, February 24, 2006

Weird variety (Aesthetically pleasing)

Strange shit. People I don't know.
Trying to help out a friend, murphy's law at its best.
So here I am, wondering what the fuck.
Wondering why I ever started the truck.
Geeze louise, I shouldn't have been surprised.
But now stupid's being reinvented right before my eyes.

I guess I've been replaced, my friendship a toy.
Wasted hours and hours, for this, the sweet bliss.
How exciting. Hardcore drinking party music.
Lower key, better quality.

Neither here nor there.


........That was a long time ago.

Now I'm amidst inside of a capitalized "lack thereof"
The know betters are no better.
No better evil, correct? States aren't up for the saving.
Up against a lonely wall, not so much faced.
Turned away from -- even though you want it.
While you don't understand it.
You run away from it until you run towards it.
You love it.

It's so you.

Even though you still don't know who you are.
You're everything you never wanted to be.
Never anything you wanted to be.
Because you're washed in it.
Bathing in your own disgrace.
The lack of saving face.
Masturbating in public -- despising it in secret.

It's time to get over yourself.
Time to pick up the chrome jeans.
Pull your legs through
Forgive everything.
Don't forgive yourself.

You, my friend.

You've became everything I've been dogging on for years.
(Absolutes)
But to hell with it.
That big label (originality) you wear it so well.
Everyone else does now though -- child.
Color, creed, whatever -- that's all bullshit.
Bullshit in the deep treads of my boot.
Lucky its not your head.
Full of empty space.
Cusack - (Better of dead)

congratulations.
You'd better be proud.
You're so original, so fucking (out loud)

Enjoying your own taste.
Your own little happy existence.
Still sheltered even though you shrug it off.
Sheltered by originality now -- you're my dog.
Sheltered by a lack of being -- homie G
You complete everyone else around you.
Welcome to the (whole)

So fucking welcome.

I've got carpal tunnel.
But I've gotta keep typing.
Because one day, you dumb assed punk.
You're not going to have Tupac.
You're not going to have Biggie.
You're not going to have any of the other celebrities you'll never understand.

You're not going to have jack shit.
Except for whatever they told you.
Who's hot, who's not. All that mumbo jumbo.
Join up now though

...Time's a wasting...

I've got carpal tunnel.
But I've gotta keep typing.
Because one day, you dumb assed punk.

You're going to look up to me.

Screen print my face on your fucking shit -- Jackass.


Fuck off.

(Not really serious, it was more of a "delightful" fuck off, not a mean one..........ok maybe that hardcore music effected me a titch more than I thought.... Suddenly feel the need to go get a chained wallet and jack off dance in public.)

Ignorance isn't bliss.

It's fucking hardcore.

What.

1 Comments:

Blogger Emerson83 said...

I love you baby. It was funny to see how grossed out you were by those hardcore dudes at the concert, lol. I mean, I totally understood why at the time, but it was amusing to hear you make fun of them. : )

8:18 PM  

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