The chickens coming home to roost are certainly not a boost to self esteem,
I mean,
the past rears up its ugly head with words you may or might not have said and you can't remember what's true or not.
It feels like I'm heading South with the stock in my hands and the barrel in my mouth.
I did decide that suicide was not for me,a coward I might be but brave enough to ***** me out,hah I doubt that.
you can smack me 'til I'm blue in the face but I won't fall,I survive in the race and the chickens can peck as chickens will,
until they've had their fill,
but they are greedy *******,blood suckers to boot,maybe I should pull the trigger and shoot,but
let them roost and let them sleep and
I'll just keep the shotgun for fun.