At morning I begin to feel
At night I begin to think
My heart starts to drown
My life starts to sink

I get images in my head
Confusion I cannot define
Jealousy ruining my life
Wanting you all mine

At morning I begin to think
At night I begin to feel
Are you really mine?
Is this fake or is this real?

I just don't understand
Why you could love me
A girl so deeply insecure
In a world of  jealousy

i once had a crush
he was a fine young man but
he just crushed my heart

so you were looking for a thrill

you had a some time to ****

you wanted something real intense

you ran a stick up and down my fence

you jumped back in fear when I rushed up

not ready for the full grown me, expecting the pup

then you laughed as you taunted me from where you felt protected

but I saw the terror in your eyes when I jumped the fence so unexpected

you always thought you could run faster scared than I could mad

that was the worst thought you could have ever had

as I grab hold of you and tear you to bits

you scream for help, your body is convulsing and shaking with fits

it seems you got way more than you bargined for

I am the hound from hell, the dog of war

Chicken little took a gun
The day that he turned 51
He put the gun beneath his head
Pulled the trigger...now he's dead

He made sure that he did die
And every birthday you will cry
You tried thrice to do the same
Try once more to win the game

The guilt you feel will fuel a fire
Face the facts...he did expire
You enabled like you always do
So that gun killed not one but two

It tore a family right apart
It didn't melt your blackened heart
So sit upon your stolen throne
And wait to die alone...alone

It's safer in the middle
It's really plain to see
If someone tries to pick me off
They shoot others before me

A platoon is led by leaders
Some who aren't around
While those of us out marching
Get picked off without a sound

You know it may sound selfish
Listen up, it isn't dumb
It's safer in the middle
Than with the flag or with the drum

It's safer in the middle
At the back you're in the hunt
If the parade should turn around
You now are at the front

The door opened, he entered
There was a whoosh of air
The Bluesman looked bedraggled
And he grabbed himself a chair

Cy, came out, he heard the bell
Saw the Bluesman, gave a smile
He said "I see the storm is worse"
"It's gonna keep up for a while"

The Bluesman looked around the store
Saw a guitar on the wall
"She's an old one hanging over there"
He called to Cy, now down the hall

He grabbed it, rubbed the neck some
He said "she's got a lot to say"
He went back to the wooden chair
And the Bluesman, he did play

"There's lots of music in this girl"
"So many songs not sung"
He looked back at the hook behind
Where this old guitar had hung

He sang songs about Jesus
about freedom, and the moon
Amazingly for the guitars age
It wasn't out of tune

Cy went to the pawn stores  back
returning with a flask
He'd brought the Bluesman medicin
The Bluesman continued with his task

"This old girls a treasure trove"
"She's just so full of words"
"Songs kept hidden for so long"
"Songs just waiting to be heard"

He played some more, the storm let up
He thanked Cy, took his leave
"An old guitar needs to be played"
"It's lost songs to be grieved"

"You know that you can play her"
"Whenever you come by"
The Bluesman turned and smiled
He held the flask given by Cy

"That old guitar is special"
"She's an old soul, just like me"
"I thank you for the offer"
"Time will tell, we'll see"

The Bluesman left the pawnshop
It was if he wasn't there
He went out back behind Gianni's
And sang his music to the air

*****! *****! I **** *****!
***** get ****** when I **** *****!
No ifs, ands, and/or buts!
I **** *****! I **** *****!

Nice girls are nice, but no good for nut-*******.
They'll need a serene night to green-light a ****-*******,
but that'll be easy with ****** ol' ****-*******!
Boo to the nice girls! Praise be to ****-*******!

I have a list. A list? Yes, a list of all the ***** I've missed.
I've never ****** or ****** these ***** and thus my nuts are ******* ******.
So when I **** the lucky ****, my nut removes her from the list---
another dumb cumbucket struck from my nut-*******,
"**** it, ****!" ****-******* bucket list.

***** can be white, brown, pink, or almond.
They can be skinny with ******* or skinny with small ones.
***** can be perky, preppy, or posh,
with their brains and their clothes all shrunk from the wash.

But other ***** are pretty and funny and smart.
They can lift your thoughts from your **** to your heart.
They can talk about science, music, or art.
They can put you together or pull you apart.

But don't trust these *****! Don't! Don't you dare!
They'll force you to trust them and love them and care.
And then they'll be gone and then you'll be aware
of that hole in your heart that that dumb **** left there.

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