Here was the sitting place the medium shit of stasis with fret
Bungalow under sweat,
Hidden down mediums painted in wet
To disarm you one by one and then farm you out to get fat,
Then devour you, like beef. Mental fuck--- reality thief,
Grey shades form natural contours of feeling,
You were the clown I saw up on the ceiling?
I was saying grace at the time for the meal at my fingertips.
Yeh that was you clown, I remember the feeling
You inspired me…
GO to Vegas get married and run all the way to L.A
How original same as your last wife but hey,
That’s how you roll,
With a hamburger soul.
And a tongue that can loll,
Nah bullshit--- you have no loll,
Just hate—and then a triplicate need for control,
Seen you the other day,
What could I say?
You looked fat from afar
But still old Mr Gray,
With your last living chance,
Waxed in tight leather pants,
You looked funny and penniless
Eaten by readiness.
With this growth on your back,
It started as a chip on your shoulder but how you lack
Love for your Daughter you murderous slut,
You stole your mates girlfriend and then--- but but but!
We love each other,
You couldn’t get close to such a thing.
Fashion victim opportune slag self made King,
I told you this then but then had to go Ring jumping,
See me out far on the coast past the Bar
There’ll be more of me when we go you monstar…