In my office,
Walls covered in crosses.
Searching for purpose like I left it in my pocket--
God, I stay positive!
I turn around and get lost in the opposite--
It's my consequence,
I don't want to talk about it.
I'm empty inside from my knowledge --
A lot like when I last checked my wallet,
At least I'm honest.
I hope I don't vomit Ramen;
I'm on my last packet of this awful product,
Cooking this in a bucket of broken promises.
I wonder if there is a prophet--
Could be possible--
Labels are common,
So i wouldn't doubt it that its probably someone anonymous,
Or someone with heart problems.
I know with love I have to be cautious;
I invite the gospel of the bible in
And wind up in the hospital unconscious--
I wake up catatonic and nauseous,
Talking nonsense like I lived in a closet.
I respond to comments like I'm demonic goddess.
I'm an alcoholic and get diagnosed psychotic,
No matter what its chronic.
Every droplet from the bottle stirs up constant gossip--
At least now I have the content for a bad comic:
I just have to take Wallace and Gromit hostage;
Speak Spanish so no one knows I'm an accomplice,
The script can be accomplished.
Last autumn I met Pocahontas,
She promised me abundance;
She gave me a compass and stomach full of fungus.
I'm compulsive to any destructive substance,
Too reluctant to reconstruct my judgements;
I need a destruction button--
I cant stop even when I hit rock bottom,
Gasping for oxygen,
I just come back out on top of a coffin.