It must have been luck,
first time seeing her
already love struck
now I'm stuck swimming
in this piss poor pool,
those who made the yellow water
must not know the golden rule,
I was looking like the fool,
and was smelling like peroxide
now I'm shedding all the shit,
gonna walk upon the dark side,
its not a long ride
gonna watch it as I pass,
I only got one ticket
so enjoy it while it last,
peter piper packing heat,
got a gun up in his waist,
he's bout to lose his top,
duck into a safer place,
in his face you see the terror,
in his voice you hear the fear,
a little proper paranoia
makes you vote again this year,
politicians pushing paper planes with null luck
hot pursuit of a penny wishing well to wash up
strapped like boots to a pirate of the sea
you can run em all you want to,
but nothing runs for free,

crash landed
looking roun stranded
suspended like the sky
fated always to fall
from over headed under hangs
heven and earth is nothing at all
sentences laid down like courtside commentators
telling you the pots black, and the kettle boils over
everybody went from suit and tie
to surplus shopping toy soldiers
nothing gets acomplished
looking at all the nonsense
 and still nothing comes from nothing
and we call that progress just like in congress
it is a process for producing stress
like flowers are for funerals,
standing on my head over my grave
the summary's fucking beautiful

comforts a word,
but man don't it sound nice
but the reality of the world is
food shortage and high price
on everything from gasoline,
to things like rocks and nails
when man leaves nothing to his back
cept piles of paper trails

forgotten are the heroes
but villians get a full run
strap me with super powers
let me loose to have my fun
humans are re-ran
look at their backs against the wall
we are the angels of the underground
but the ceiling is too small
for those of inside the building
to ever spread our wings
while the blue bird makes his time out
you never hear him sing
the cage door open
and down the case is closed
the birdie makes for his escape
into the photograph for which he posed

all the things tumbling in and in
and down into themselves
lamenting as the record spins
the life of someone else
we are recorded like the times
as the fall upon the clock
then it burns up and goes away
as if it were a crack rock

broken like frail bones,
backed up like breadlines,
a single side of salad,
a double deal on fries
the food makes it to the full folk,
but the starving man dies
and still nothing stands for nothing
and no one's asking why

just a penny for you thought,
give a dime for your time,
just a slap for me to kick
so I can spit my ryhmn

oportunity reduced to mutiny,
the plot for life is clear to see
it all ammounts to minutes
to the details you re-tell
to all the things inside of you
its all the points you sell
I dont gotta pop cops,
or smoke rocks,
or rock a glock at my cock
to hit on the mic with words
that shit is to the birds
and with a pen and a pad,
thugs aint got shit on me
so you can step yout shit
but I won't go down easy

hoes are for yardwork,
gangsters is just house cats
who singing what they dreaming
of being  strapped with real gats
but they living just like us
they add the fuck into the line
just because they like to cuss
booty calls, and champeign
cuttin lines of cocaine