Buried hatchets and gateway drugs
Third wheels in search of two way streets
Manic compulsions are my hobbies, I need closure
The bad news bearer has me pegged, I'm still unsure
The bad guy still harbors feelings, drowns in his thoughts

Use you foresight to see that you need
To do the breast stroke to win
But in hindsight I guess you shouldn't have made that last brushstroke beforehand
Clog my toilet with a dollop, you hoot and holler, you'll get a wallop
Rebuked and cold cocked, so despondent kick rocks at their glass house

Goose eggs make green house gas
Do or die, cardiac arrest
Life's calling
The call is dropped
You're unfit for this
I'd like a life line
It's survival of the fittest

       -Tommy Johnson