I can't sing serious.

ice cold as the stones
from the road in the winter, frozen cold.

bare feet on blacktops
make everything sad!
walking on ladder swings
make everything confusing!

dont know what to say, dont give a ****.

close your eyes
lose yourself in the jump
clip off your nails
and sew on some teeth
eating all the people
with knees and trees
and bees.

hot wax on fingertips
reminds me of your lips.

all of these shades of
black and white wake me up
in such a ****** mood.

want to get out
want to get in
want to move away
from here.

I am a master,
but I'm not the creator.
I'll spell it our for you
but I wont explain it.
I'll paint you a picture
but I wont show it to you.

I'll walk in your door
just to walk  out,
give you an adjective
and take away the verbs

fingers tight
lips loose
feet going for fast
I'll erase your face.

Dead man walking                dazed
eyes blank                               and
killed by years                      searching
sraining to see                        for
the one thing that                    just
he knows will never come         one
spirit ground to the dust of tombs    slight
pallid spectres of no warmth                     chance
moving into the fringe of his gaze                 but
his lethargy tells                                                     as
there is little left for them to take                  so
no spark                                                                  often
no light                                                                  before
passion for life denied                                  whenever
the cloying                                                            comes
the clinging                                                            some
filth left upon him                                            desperate
in the dark                                                            perhaps
no choice but to                                               undeserved
try to wash this                                                     last
scar                                                                          clean
wound                                                                   chance
to scrape                                                              away
and to cut                                                            into
till blood flows                                                  my
knife cleanses nothing                               future
just mocks                                                       I
have nothing  left                                          fail
not even my blood                                       myself
drained out and soiled                               again