Post by fourtimefelon on Aug 7, 2015 20:08:37 GMT -5
Is it really that hard to find a little piece of mind in this landfill life?
So sick and tired of tip-toeing through these landmines,
trying to find the route to safety on someone else's deadline.
Now, I'm stuck here in the toilet bowl of time,
longing for the swirling drain ahead in the distance.
And while my brain knows what I ought to do,
My idiot heart just will not cooperate.
The spiraling path of least resistance.
This insanity, insides engaged in endless conflict,
I attribute to a creator I find ruthlessly sarcastic.
She's woven into me a sinister trick,
just enough wisdom to realize I'm the jackass following a carrot on a stick.
Seriously, the she inside my head is such a sadistic bitch!
She. Keeps. On. Following. Me.
Everywhere I go!
Why won't her memory just leave me alone?
It's constantly choking its way inside,
infecting my life and poisoning the sleep of every night.
Telling me that -I- need to atone!
It's as if she's schooled in a dark Haitian art,
and somewhere out there in the deepest night
she's caressing a handmade fetish,
poking and prodding, snapping and stabbing, maniacally laughing and viciously slashing.
Floating in my mind, a winged wrecker of homes.
But -still- I'm acting like I don't know I'm only pretending she's from heaven above.
She is clearly anything BUT an agent of love.
I've given to her all of her weapons.
A surgical scalpel forged of my lust.
I've reduced myself to a hollow-point bullet,
I've chambered myself within her gun.
She works the action and the sum of a lifetime's pain is all that I am.
But there she goes, disconnected, wrapped in the safety of far, far away.
She's artfully enacted an insidious plan,
a calculation designed to rot away all that makes me a man.
Slowly dragged to the precipice of nothing left to choose,
and abandoned there with nothing left to lose.
Broken, Bloodied, Bleak, Abused
I don't suppose there's any miracle I'll be lucking into.
As always, just a slave to her f*cking voodoo.
So sick and tired of tip-toeing through these landmines,
trying to find the route to safety on someone else's deadline.
Now, I'm stuck here in the toilet bowl of time,
longing for the swirling drain ahead in the distance.
And while my brain knows what I ought to do,
My idiot heart just will not cooperate.
The spiraling path of least resistance.
This insanity, insides engaged in endless conflict,
I attribute to a creator I find ruthlessly sarcastic.
She's woven into me a sinister trick,
just enough wisdom to realize I'm the jackass following a carrot on a stick.
Seriously, the she inside my head is such a sadistic bitch!
She. Keeps. On. Following. Me.
Everywhere I go!
Why won't her memory just leave me alone?
It's constantly choking its way inside,
infecting my life and poisoning the sleep of every night.
Telling me that -I- need to atone!
It's as if she's schooled in a dark Haitian art,
and somewhere out there in the deepest night
she's caressing a handmade fetish,
poking and prodding, snapping and stabbing, maniacally laughing and viciously slashing.
Floating in my mind, a winged wrecker of homes.
But -still- I'm acting like I don't know I'm only pretending she's from heaven above.
She is clearly anything BUT an agent of love.
I've given to her all of her weapons.
A surgical scalpel forged of my lust.
I've reduced myself to a hollow-point bullet,
I've chambered myself within her gun.
She works the action and the sum of a lifetime's pain is all that I am.
But there she goes, disconnected, wrapped in the safety of far, far away.
She's artfully enacted an insidious plan,
a calculation designed to rot away all that makes me a man.
Slowly dragged to the precipice of nothing left to choose,
and abandoned there with nothing left to lose.
Broken, Bloodied, Bleak, Abused
I don't suppose there's any miracle I'll be lucking into.
As always, just a slave to her f*cking voodoo.