Cut me into pieces
And feed me
To the gulls out my window
I am nothing in this place
And never will I achieve
The salvation I dream about
I am surrounded
Like a beggar round trash
I am buried
Like a dead man who lays with worms
For in money I cry and sigh
Oh money!
What a flaming false sense of accomplishment
Take me away from this place
And plop me unto another
I cringe at the idea of a 9 to 5
The void
Which is unseen, unknown and screaming
Knows no thing as silly as time
The night whistles drunk
As I'm picking up my junk
From the sidewalk of a woman
That I thought I knew how to love
But I slayed and dazed
By the magnitude of this proud and loud sound
Could it be,
Oh could it be,
That the last night on Earth
Will be a broken burning tome?
Yes it may be,
It very well may be,
But I may be working alone
Singing in mourn
Or off somewhere else
Without a reason
To keep up the fight
But the underdog
Who pants in silence in the depths of the darkest market
The weariest melted candle
The heaviest horn which sails through the air
Like a lost white dove
Will live on after I die
And bark for the gifted one's
Who know how to bleed
And to hear