Laze on the couch, sideways,
watching ants attack waed on the gift box
top, Magic, worst thing to teach kids
with addictive tendencies, those who fill
holes with things they hope won't deteriorate
in time after all of the money they paid
Bills stack, get paid, too, but the space left
is huge, too gaping for the remaining
messed up bunch of tight, clinched presidents
Never thought Washington bought ice cream
and got fat, or thought that Jackson dug green,
pipe cleaned, choked on **** til oxygen be
came an old means, but here I slink, giving them
to family, so I can recede comfortably on
an old futon with broke dreams, with full sink,
two XLs, to be honest, it feels too real,
feels too deep, feels like I best hold home
and blow dro, sleep to the X-bone beep.
yeah yeah yeah
but if I were healthy, I doubt I'd be writing.