Plays blame on the train
We came in through the back whores
It felt like the eighties again…well I mean from what I’ve heard.
I scored a point for sanity,
I killed our “leaders”
Not literally…just with words and sit INS.
Unbecoming to the mainstream, we dug our teeth into their grins
Ripping their lips off in hopes of becoming future history book revolutionaries.
Stop being hippies
Or labeling yourself as gutta.
Stop imitating past writers, actors and musical scores.
Evolve and create from the soul, from both sides of the brain
Lost in your own little world
While respecting the one you inhabit in this physical form.
Third eye vision on this non-objective portrait of karma
We huddle inside to stay warm.
I draw up this picture and staple it to the wall
I paint over it in knowing it’ll be lost down the road
That some one will find it and write a similar note
On the back of a piece of paper, with a scribbled picture
Of another ones lover on the front.
My mistress, however
Just seems to be hope.
Circle takes the square,
I pay for my next blowjob.