the crossroads
and all that jazz
I'm ready to sell my soul, and all that
crap
it's held up in a tight ball concentrated in my forehead
begging to be released
a river
a ******* sicstic pimple
**** and guts
ohhh that's where I'm headed, that's where I want to be
gothic, james dean


But I can't
because
there's a christmas tree in the living room
and a girlfriend who is happily going to sleep
I'll never be biggie
I'll never be Bukowski
Cobain
with the shotgun to the head
ready to die

for now, I fear death

but ******
I can still be so hot
blazing, infact
hot as the devil himself
there are those who fall victim to insanity
and those that have already fallen down that hole and then emerged somehow,

and the devil makes boredom

delicious