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Fri 28 Sep, 2007 06:19 am
Monday morning, Monday morning.
Sitting here, staring into a cup of my black life's blood.
Feeling like an old car with a couple hundred thousand miles on it.
Not enough oil changes. Tires bald. Ball joints creaking.
Too many miles for a car this age. Driven hard, driven long.
I'm wondering how long before I end up in the bone yard.
I'm not even good enough to sell for parts.
Too many cigarettes, too much booze.
None of the good stuff.
Soon to be crushed and recycled into something new.
You're a cheerful bugger, aren't you?
i like your analogy
maybe you should cut down on the 'black life's blood'? :wink:
or get unleaded
contrex wrote:You're a cheerful bugger, aren't you?
Well, the Wellbutrin hasn't really kicked in yet
Ironic that it is Friday morning and I'm writing about Monday. I write lyrics for a heavy metal band... doesn't lend much to cheerfulness.
Quote: like your analogy
maybe you should cut down on the 'black life's blood'?
or get unleaded
Thanks for the comment Endymion. I just read your "revolution" post. I'll try and get to more, but I definitely like that one.
I used "Black life's blood" because "a warm, black existence" was taken already.
This isn't finished, throwing it out there anyway for fun.
Get some medication, do some meditation I don't care!
Resolve your issues, talk it out
Take a breath, count to ten, just don't ******* shoot me!
Find a therapist, find a priest, find a way to get relief.
Whatever, I don't care just don't ******* shoot me!
Put them away, put them away, put them away.
Put your guns away!
Just put your guns away!
Put the guns away!
Put 'em away!
Innocent bloodshed. Tragic death.
They didn't do anything to deserve this.
Couples break up, people get shitty wages.
Happens every day. They don't fly into rages.
Thirty-two, thirty-two, thirty-two.
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