There were furrows in his brow
Kept his music much too loud
Paper skin and paper grin
To his chest, a heart we'll pin

Veins are ****** tunnels
A carbonated bottle
A lump love funnels,
Bubbles over, feeling sober
Dismal future, no four leaf clover
Afraid to search around for a light
Afraid to wait around and see that it might
Not be all that worthwhile

He lived to take flight
Dark crimson in a ****** vile
Injection withdrawn, thin paper smile
Down below,
Ground is coming near
And before the pavement
A vision was clear

A final thought rummaged through his brain
A blissful blow, a final aching pain
A florescent concussion, an angelic cheer
A temporary life he lived
For it was not death he feared