Life's a bith and... that's pretty much it.
I hate the world out there, I think It stabs you in back, strips you and leaves you bare Broken Vulnerable and the it laughs at you and your new clothes But you were never fooled by the tailors lies
I think i have this raw animosity That comes from being cooked too many times I'm tough in places and in others underdone Braised until brazen, grilled until crosshatched I'm done, I said, I'm done
Still it has allure, even a whore can be enticing Glamored by the sultry eyes that see passed me Gloss over me, I ignore the the track marks on her arm And fall into the wamr embrace of her dysfunction until… I realize… My socially transmitted disease will do us both in