you looked out onto the lands,
god had made for you.
it was too cold.
too damp.
you said
"i'll do you one better"
and when the structure
was finished, you
lifted your calloused hands
in praise to the creator above.
Unaware that he stood
50 yards away, wondering:
"who the **** ruined my masterpiece?"

I had a silver dollar,
I lost it to the breeze.
I don't mind,
It didn't help me to breath.
You always say recover,
always say you will,
anarchy won't set you free,
but i am through rehearsing
all these lines i've been prescribed
to find success.
I am through rehearsing.
I am through.

Oxygen,
you take for granted.
Mr. high end man,
you're all alone.
Mr. nobody's home,
cut the ****.