it’s eaten who i am. it pauses plans. it took my
hands beaten. tool i am. the fools and ham,
but that’s ok…
well i’ve fought to succeed against the cold
shoulders of misfortune and it’s elusive
when i’d seen it all i thought i was fit to judge it
until i lost my wyn…
those days come like napalm and burnt out
those things that make some and break some to
amount to sh*t…
but i’m ok with it stapled to my head!
play god the wrong. ok i think we know that
feeling deep down i’m not so scorned, just
neuro fibro deformed…
the truth is i’d rather live like sh*t than conform
and stoop to novelty.
the less i care, the less i feel.