Sometimes you reach out to grab the moon;
Only to realise, it is a false satellite screen.

After hours, when I'm home
With less than a man, a dog, maybe a gnome;
I'd like to think that memories kept me alive
But alas! it was the lies,
If I smoke any of those e-cigars,
I might as well choke when I look at the sky
Or she who had no friends,
Or she who met her end;
She who lied about poetry to win his love,
Now pushing e-cigarettes through her spine;

I was alone, Alone as I grew up
I poured my own whisky, I shared my own cup,
I'm Fine, I'm sorry,
I'm alive, and the lies
And the lies piled up like old report cards
Whom did I marry for life?
I'm a pathological liar in disguise;

You said I looked like a painting, I gleamed!
Edward Munch drew me, I screamed.

They are all temporary:
Pop a Xanny and look at the sky;
You cannot play pictionary
If the board is full of lies.

Today I smoked *** and looked at the sky,
My mind slowly went to Neverland
Somewhere between never it's gonna be,
Neverland, never who,
I would never find people who are true,
I went to the pit of the universe and thought
About a mermaid who swam like me
She got dumped in the sand
And was forced to turn into a man under the tree,
To wake up with a warm cup of tea
Who are you
And am I me,
Whoever thought that memories weren't easy
It isn't dear man,
I will cry and tell you
Who can be
And who can't
You aren't part of my memory
Why are you in black and white
You seem sad and important
But I have no place for you in my life
I could cry and mop and compare my trigger
With a sad friend
But who has got time for friends
Or for people who use you like  a bag of ****
Whom are you living for
Grow up, men aren't born with wings
I am about to tell you to be a man and go get drunk,
You aren't a christmas holiday, your life isn't fun
I am gonna trigger a bullet young man,
I am sorry that I couldn't make it through
If I feed my brain a bullet
And make it through the end,
Maybe in the next life,
We could be friends.

I could be a shaman, and imagine my wife making pancakes
And little children playing around with hand-made kites;

Truest behind dreams that interpret our living,
I have been scrammed inside a 7/9 metal jar
Where the only living creature swimming around
Is imaginary and I call her hope;

People do not advertise money;

And I hoped they did!
Life would be a whole lot easier.