Thursday, September 08, 2005



don't call me moneybags

can`t you seeI got credit rating waiting

wishing my life away

on ikea-dream baiting

pissing it away

piddling in a circle

in a corner painting myself

and all the whores on billboard hoardings

cavorting and gyrating, stating

you can be up here too, in TV land with me

a land with no fear or pain,

preserved from death and ruin, beautiful and vain

I just end up hatingthe way my down at heels feel

my coins fall down the grating

preserved from god knows what, like spending masturbating

my entrails like sausages, in my hands all empty

trying to descry the future

but theres a big grey cloud waiting

the ghosts of our future deaths won`t cross

so unnerving,so swerving off the path

we go mopping our brow,

and go shopping


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