Come on, you’ve had that thought, that where do I fit in life
I have these crazy dreams, I’m not me but watching through somebody else’s eye
You’re on a bridge in Bristol looking over yonder at a place of make believe
It could be anywhere in your mind and then pops up your mate Steve (hi dream Steve, what you are doing here?)

Yes, you dream all sorts of mad cap ideas which even you don’t understand
But somewhere, in that messed up head of yours, is an idea, so impulsive, so magnificent, so world changing and yet so grand
Dig it out, you know you can, its hiding around a corner just waiting to be unleashed
If it escapes, capture it, feed it, calm it and this my friend will help you on your own two feet

You think I’m crazy? Yeah, probably
But you’re only here once, don’t put it off, this is that lost cog
McCartney dreamt up Let it Be and look what happened to him
Multi-millionaire, annoying as hell, married a one-legged ex *******, no sorry, don’t be like him

But they come, flittering and fluttering whilst disappearing in a jiffy
Those thoughts of ideas, you could change the world, just one of them a gimme
The wheel, the thread, the wind-up radio
Pull it out of that deep dark hole in your brain and there you have it, sold

Now don’t read the rest of this, you’ve got ideas to ignite
Hand that notice in, bye-bye awful boss, its time for me to take flight

As I am that lost cog

JJB

You wanted
to have your
cake and eat it too
well honey
take a bite
I am spiked

Strawberry frosting
can be deceiving

One day,
I will write a book
He'll claim it is about him
“Why couldn't you get over me?”
“Why are you still stuck in the past? This was years (months, days, minutes) ago”.

I’ll say it's about how you made me feel,
How you left me.
How you broke me,
Then made me pick up the pieces.
How you ****** me,
Told me you loved me.
Choked identical words out of me.
Deserted me.

I wrote a book about loving someone despite everything he had done to me.
Encompassing me
Hurting me.
Not him.

racist man with orange skin as if tanning beds are not just an excuse for us to pretend like we've got more melanin

The monster boy ATE her soul

And tore her I  n  t  o

                           Pieces