There are 10 kinds of people in this world,
and binary accounts for them all.

They're happy and sad.
They're ones and zeros.
Villains and heroes.
Villains, yet not all bad.
Despite everything life decides to hurl;
Despite every brick ball of fear
Through the stained glass windows of their minds,
Through it all, they survive.
They're angry and glad.
They're happy and sad.

And in their duality, they're still smiling there
at your sharp hasty words
at your venomous hurt
that you wish so desperately they, too, shared.

This is River Monsters, mate, and I'm like Jeremy Wade
Helping myself to dates, while I'm lying in wait
Along the Strait of Rhymes, waiting for someone to take my bait
What can I say? It's three quarters to eight
Looks like no one's ready to be put on a hot plate and made irate
I'm Alexander the Great and I'm conquering this "poetic" estate

With words that are as venomous as a krait
Let me try to actuate you to think of rhymes to create
But you're not thinking straight, this is MY trait, you're too late
Heading for the home plate, around it I perform a figure eight
Although I don't skate, heh... Hey, your pupils are dilate!
Guess you didn't know, being inundate with my words was your fate

This is all you're able to tolerate, I estimate. It's not going to abate so when you're ready and you can relate, come find me, I'll be lying in wait.

I walk down
This street of misery
An try to get this
Cloud to stop following me
Sit down and buy myself
a drink
While thoughts of you
Coming flying back to me
I try to smile an fight back
Those memories
But then I buy myself
Another drink
I begin to wonder
If you think of me
But then I pour myself
Another drink
Why does love include pain?
When will I be okay again?
The time has come
For me to move on
An hope you'll think
Fondly of me..
But if not then
Why don't you come in
To the bar of broken dreams
An I'll buy you a drink
We can talk about how
Life used to be
As you pour yourself another drink
God I hope you think of me...