#metallica
TicketMaster of Puppets,
you pull our strings.
Selling to bots and scalpers
ends in prices fit only for kings.
Fans spend hours in online queues,
only to end disappointed.
Or racking up credit card debt
for to be one of the anointed.
To get a good seat that has views
we pay 7x more than the price.
Why, pray tell, is this legal?
Don't we all agree greed is a vice?
Bands share some of the blame--
they don’t have to play this game.
But they’re raking in the dough.
My respect is sinking low.
Life burns fast,
but my bank account burns faster.
If you want your fans to stay around,
say **** off to TicketBastard.
Mar 6
Mar 6, 2026 at 10:13 PM UTC
wanting my men back
inside of west point
providing irish poetry
the general assembly
of all hands on desk
literate loves
students of a united kingdom
never a british rule again
you just a metalican
grazed in ties of foreigned lies
in a row of tattoos
in a rose plattoon, michael
led us in rounds of a row of tattoos
Apr 27, 2025
Apr 27, 2025 at 4:44 PM UTC
you can't save a world
that doesnt know how to read
while riding eachother into the sunrise's
it's the writing and paging of last year
we can get back to
to live forever
back 6 years
and 6 more leaving 6 years
of hell for them to eat
Apr 18, 2025
Apr 18, 2025 at 6:52 PM UTC
Some day,
We'll meet.
And that day,
You'll tell me,
"Wish we didn't break apart."
Even today, I search for true love,
But it's elusive like the golden swan.
Even today, I look for it under the trees,
I look for it on the roads and in the parks,
"Wish we didn't grow apart."
It was just an instance of rudeness,
They tell me that I should've been mature.
Maturity, is it gained when you lose your identity,
Or when you stop reacting and start responding?
"Wish you hadn't left such scorny remarks."
I have braved hellish fires,
In you, I sought some balm.
You could've applied it soothingly,
But you left remarks so disparagingly,
"Wish I still could've been mature, and not reacted."
Someday, we might meet again,
You'll finally mature enough...
That day, you’ll understand my pain,
Yes, I hope you'll not be so rough,
"Wish that day comes soon enough."
Babe, I felt warm things for you,
But your remarks—me they burned.
Babe, I had plans for the future,
But you, typical Y2K generation,
"Wish future existed for you too."
The future can be changed,
It can be accurately predicted.
Everyone was happy—everyone but you,
Babe, you should've told your mom beforehand,
"I don't want to waste my youth on the middle-aged man."
This is the futility of my feelings,
They don't matter, because I'm a man.
All my successes, they are insignificant,
They are engulfed in the quality of being effervescent,
"For there are many more younger timely successful men."
Nobody reads any of my novels,
I may have went through a lot.
But I'm turning 34 in 36 days,
I've missed the bus, I'm late.
"And nothing else matters."
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
Nov 16, 2024
Nov 16, 2024 at 8:17 PM UTC
Today, I remembered
yesterdays' rain "comin' down on a sunny day"
then suddenly "nothing else matters"
when you ask the piano man to "sing me a song"
as "I listened, to the wind, the wind of my soul"
Oct 29, 2020
Oct 29, 2020 at 5:36 AM UTC
With a shadow creeping behind me, making every promise empty.
Intoxicating my nerves, I am being chased.
Stalking my forecast, I run at ten speed.
No stopping, I turn around to see a shadow so empty, its mere whispers have demolished into misty ash.
It haunts my every being and stalks my rotten prey.
It displeases my humanity and consumes my lost soul.
I run, run so fast, the lights hit bloom.
Scared, fearful of what it can do, I look down, I see the shadow
...
The shadow was you.
The ghost I'm trying to escape, just keeps coming back.
The feeling is poison, but beautiful at the same time.
The feeling is toxic, but fills my void of loss and emptiness.
You're a bad guy, playing with my emotions and unleashing my toxic tears.
Confusing my feelings and handling me like a puppet.
Why do I love you?
Since you're the master of puppets, you've dominated and learnt to control me.
Let me go.
Or I will turn around, and leave.
Leave you empty, till you lose control.
Apr 24, 2019
Apr 24, 2019 at 12:26 PM UTC
Met a girl sweet as hell
with her charm, could enchant anyone
Looks could **** what a thrill
where do i begin she is second to none
Can’t take my eyes off her as she cast her spell
Ma-ri-bel, how I fell
Can’t dispel , I’m in trouble can’t you tell
her brown eyes mesmerize
And with but a glance I just don’t stand a chance
With her smile and her style
i’d go the extra mile She has me so beguiled
Can’t take my eyes off her as she cast her spell
Ma-ri-bel, how I fell
Can’t dispel , I’m in trouble can’t you tell
(Spoken like a prayer)
Roses are red be violets blue( backup voice repeat)
I rewrote this song for you (backup voice repeat)
Hope you like it yeah I do (backup voice repeat)
And wish I could spend time with you (backup voice repeat)
Her-beauty-could make me drop dead
Can't get her out of my head
Youth you must see for yourself
And how I want her for myself
Ma-ri-bel cast a spell, in my mind
Ma-ri-bel how I fell
Can't dispel, I'm in trouble can't you tell
Feb 15, 2019
Feb 15, 2019 at 11:10 AM UTC
Dear Tristan,
Metallica is your favorite,
But Poison is your remedy
Nov 2, 2017
Nov 2, 2017 at 9:24 PM UTC
Let's talk about a human being,
Be it a male or a female being...
The infant needs care,
It also needs to feed..
The infant cries,
The infant laughs.
And nothing else matters.
Then the infant grows up to be a kid,
Becomes a more big teenager next..
The teenager needs attention,
It needs to be accompanied..
The teenager plays,
The teenager enjoys.
And nothing else matters.
The teenager matures into an adult,
Blasts each one of the social norms.
The adult needs inspiration,
It needs to be truly loved..
The adult thinks,
The adult aspires,
And nothing else matters.
Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 3:28 AM UTC
there is nothing poetic
about the way you smash your drums in
like you smash memories
there is nothing poetic about the way you recite words
that mean everything to you
but do not live by
there is nothing poetic about how you look to the left
because the right way is never your way
there is nothing poetic deep under your ‘skin’
there is nothing poetic about finding a better place to ‘fit in’
there is nothing poetic about the way you percieve the world or what kind of music you listen to or the way you dress or the way you feel when you are alone and looking at the stars
there is nothing poetic about the smell of camp fire or peter pan or metallica
because we’re off to neverland
only, you’re off to nowhere
there is nothing poetic about you
there is nothing poetic about you
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 9:20 AM UTC
Peter Pan had nothing on you
truely a Lost Boy,
Sad but charming
no direction
but only a destination
Off to Never-Neverland
don't like Metallica
but sure do like you.
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 11:08 PM UTC