with brain too crazy to care
I murder everytime I jack off...but I still feel innocent.
Between the heart and the emotionless void, lays the sound of scribbling pencils.
Why do I keep trying to quit cigarettes? There's plenty of time to not smoke..when I'm dead.
I need candy tasting lips of the opposite sex like in high school whispering movie times in my ear. I'm awkward and reluctant, unlike I was those years. I hide like crumbs down the back of the couch. I know how to disguise myself in a crowd. I'm foreign in the neighbouring emotional urban sprawl of downtown Loverville, where everyone seems to chill.
There are brightly feathered maidens in the forests of falling gums
Maidens of summer, squawking squawking, inebriated--falling
Turn on the radio and dance to sampling and no vocabulary
On the chalky shores of boredom and mass market direction
Philistines contributing to the suicide of artists and alike
Destroying the essence of what they think they are creating
I should be Odin breeding armies eating those with no interests
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