Jul 22, 2006 00:00
This thing’s for the boyfriends
Who know how hearts meet their ends.
This one’s for the loners,
The losers,
The stoners.
Raise your hand for superiority
We march through the hills of moral majority.
And as the leader, I lay and cry
And send tearful letters unto the sky.
Unanswered prayers to null entities,
Drift through psychedelic colorful cities.
The prayers degrade and turn to stone,
And then I know I’m not alone.
My manhood stands
In endless sands,
Fearless and smiling,
Defiant and crying.
Persevere and stick together,
Fight clubs start in any weather.