zero the last ******** it. I'm going.
[color=goldenrod]Tell it to the Man.
They are a cowardly lot.
Pasted with broken windows,
stolen stereos, and
backed by rainbows
of sick foes.
Reds and Blues sing a tune
of falling at noon,
getting pregnant too soon,
or shooting up in the bathroom.....
This is the melting pot.
Welcome to the Big City.
Never a dull moment in Hell,
or so they say.
Pardon the reasons, and
make bed wherever you can.
There's no sympathy left in me,
so tell it to The Man.
This a parody
mixed with three parts philosophy,
outlined in white chalk,
for never reaching Epiphany.
The Eaters of the Dead,
the book never read,
the silence in the Said,
for a hole in the ******** head.
This is how they greet children,
how they make millions.
Divide that by one half,
and it's a ********' killin'.
Maybe the Martyrs had it right
the first time:
Find the meaning in the moment,
and the death toll will climb.
I'm the man in the bushes,
can you see me through your window?
Watching you watch the way
that life floats by.
I'm only in it for the moment of release.
Tell it to The Man,
and let the cries cease.
Fading into nothing.
Asking for everything.
I make the world go around.
I make the money flow.
Who am I?
Who can I be next?
-end-
There i
yz7w6l2q:0="zero the last ******** it. I'm going.
[color=goldenrod][b]Tell it to the Man.[/b]
They are a cowardly lot.
Pasted with broken windows,
stolen stereos, and
backed by rainbows
of sick foes.
Reds and Blues sing a tune
of falling at noon,
getting pregnant too soon,
or shooting up in the bathroom.....
[i]This is the melting pot.
Welcome to the Big City.
Never a dull moment in Hell,
or so they say.
Pardon the reasons, and
make bed wherever you can.
There's no sympathy left in me,
so tell it to The Man.[/i]
This a parody
mixed with three parts philosophy,
outlined in white chalk,
for never reaching Epiphany.
The Eaters of the Dead,
the book never read,
the silence in the Said,
for a hole in the ******** head.
This is how they greet children,
how they make millions.
Divide that by one half,
and it's a ********' killin'.
Maybe the Martyrs had it right
the first time:
Find the meaning in the moment,
and the death toll will climb.
[i]I'm the man in the bushes,
can you see me through your window?
Watching you watch the way
that life floats by.
I'm only in it for the moment of release.
Tell it to The Man,
and let the cries cease.[/i]
Fading into nothing.
Asking for everything.
I make the world go around.
I make the money flow.
Who am I?
Who can I be next?
-end-
There it is.