i have a feeling and whenever i get this feeling
the ceiling the floor and back to the ceiling
the voices are chit chit chattering
telling me telling me, bit bit battering
forgive me for the thoughts that come as the may
forgive me for the words that i can't help but say

i can't stop the voices, i can't stop the feeling
the ceiling the floor and back to the ceiling
the feeling is bad and i deserve it most true
the feeling is deserved, so i do what i must do
forgive me for the thoughts that come as the may
forgive me for the words that i can't help but say

pain is my middle, my first and last name
the more whish whish whispers tell me the same
i can't help but feel the way that i do
the pain is something i must share with you
forgive me for the thoughts that come as the may
forgive me for the words that i can't help but say

the words, the thoughts, the senses are failing
the voices are truth-stakes my heart impaling
i know not to whom to turn when i am confused
the voices are pain-death-smell infused
forgive me for the thoughts that come as the may
forgive me for the words that i can't help but say

where are you when i need you most?
when the day has reached it's twilight
and the bitter night creeps through my house.
the pitter-patter of little feet has become
the stimpy-stomping of little monsters.
the chitter-chatter of nig-nig-nagging
is constant in my ear.
oh, heineken, heineken, heineken.
were you but a woman, i would flee this world
and steal you away as paris took helen.
we would spend day and night in each other's embrace.
i would sing praises and songs in your honor
and the world would stand back and marvel
at the love between us.
but, you are not a woman, but still i long for
the feel of your firmness in my hand,
your wondrous good taste chasing worry away.
i would drink you and all of your companions
and dance/prance/stumble to the bathroom
as if in heaven.
the pitter-patter would turn to clinking of bottles.
the chitter-chatter would turn to clicking of caps.
but alas, i am merely dreaming and sober.
and tonight you are in the hands of another.
tomorrow, i will venture and seek you out.
oh heineken, you will soon be mine.
mine all mine, the world will tremble with my
drunken laughter.

I was sleeping
And like a victim two seconds unaware
I was smiling
I was dreaming

I heard a crying
And like a father I was moving
I was running
You were creeping

I heard a splashing
Much like some children playing
I wasn’t laughing
You were spreading

You splashed and crashed
And poured in all of my crevices
You spread and I was dead
On the inside, You are the nemesis

And you would have laughed
If you had a voice and lips
To smile while I cried.

I was sleeping
And like a victim left for dead
I stopped breathing
While you were creeping

mounds profounds
deep thoughts of your *******.
the big ones, the best ones
but never itty-bitties.

a handful, a mouthful
i love to touch.
all day, every day
is never too much.

pleading and pleading
don't tell me no.
pleasing and pleasing
rub fast and rub slow.

your *****, your bust
your ******, your ****.
the jiggling and wiggling
is always a treat.

your front, your fun-pillows
your melons, your chest.
the shaking and quaking
is always the best.

you are causing a tremor
an earthquake in my pants.
come a little closer
because mr. happy needs a chance.

when i was a boy,
i collected seashells.
i had the most beautiful collection
when i was a boy.

i dreamt of seashells
and what i dreamt was beside
me every morning of everday
when i was a boy.

i had red ones and blue ones
white ones and rounds ones
ones of beauty and of majesty
when i was a boy.

the world marvelled at my collection
the world coveted my collection
i had the most beautiful seashell collection
when i was a boy.

one day i looked out through a window
and saw a boy walking along the beach
he picked up the plainest of seashells
and smiled
i raged and raged and raged
for forty days and forty nights
i raged
when i was a boy.

on the side,
on the sly,
fix me a sandwhich
of tuna and rye.
grab my stick,
point to the sky.
look at my **** to
poke you in the eye.
pull out my ***** to
poke you in the pie.
hmmm... hmmm... hmmm...
cherry ******' pie.

on the side,
on the sly,
fix me a sandwhich
of tuna and rye.

responding to your email is like
telling you that i love you.
it is hard and i can never
get the words just right
i am sitting here looking at
your brief little note
your brief little message
your brief little touch and
warm caress of the soul
reading your email is like
hearing you say that you love me.
so i look away. i close my browser.
i try to think of something else.

responding to your email is like
telling you that i need you.
it is wrong and i can't seem
to get you out of my mind.
i am sitting here staring at
my unopened browser
my unopened heart
my unopened touch and
warm caress of your soul
speaking my mind is like
condemning a guilty man to death.
so deserved. so true.
i try to think of something else.

responding to your email is like
telling you that i want you.
my mind, my soul, my heart
burns with insatiable longing.
i am sitting here dreaming of
the last time that i saw you
the last time that i heard you
the last time that i felt your
warm caress of my soul.
admitting the truth is like
a dull-edged knife cutting to my core.
i am so wrong. i am so silent.
i try to think of something else.