(no subject)
Sick to death of my dependence,
fighting food to find transcendence
Fighting to survive,
more dead but more alive
Cigarettes and speed to live,
and sleeping pills to feel forgiven
All that you contrive,
and all that you're deprived
All the bourgeois social angels telling you you've got to change
Don't have any idea.
They'll never see so clear.
But don't forget what it really means to hunger strike
when you don't really need to
Some are dying for a cause,
but that don't make it yours.
