Grieving in a monsoon of feelings
Wearing red lipstick without a date
Stuck in the grind of slab city...that's my dealings
Wallowing in a no vacancy sign as I await my fate
Puncture wounds stain my memory
Stuck in between the present and a dream
Watching from above as you wear me like an accessory
Joining your Gestapo regime
Test drive me, I'm a Buick
Big, bulky, superfluous as can be
Stick me in your arm, feel the sting of the prick
Just because you feel it doesn't mean your free
No comments:
Post a Comment