"dmv" poems
On the third of June, at a minute past two,
where once was a person, a flower now grew.
Five daisies arranged on a large outdoor stage
in front of a ten-acre pasture of sage.
In a changing room, a lily poses.
At the DMV, rows of roses.
The world was much crueler an hour ago.
I'm glad someone decided to give flowers a go.
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 11:22 AM UTC
I wrote u a note n asked u to take that car out if my name. If the dmv contacts me one more time I swear to jah I will come up there wit the police n my spare key and take the car since its still leagally mine because you cant be legit n get it out of my name
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 11:38 PM UTC
Uhh..Young Ston,..
The ****** Disciple. ..OFTR..Yeah this is Only For The Real dawg..Yeah only for (my real ones,Yeah2)..Yeah..(Ohh3)..Let's do it...Lets go..roll up..yeah roll mo..(Ohh*3)..Yeah let's go..
Uhh..(I just do what I do Yeah2)..I do what I do man..(I just do what I do nigga2)..keeping it gangster & trill man..(Yeah I do what I do man2)..Yeah..(I do what I do..Yeah2)..I just do what I do..Yeah..I do what I do nigga..I just do what I do..Oooo,..(Yeah2)..keeping it gangster & keeping it trill.. Ohh,..(I just do what I do Yeah2)..I just do what I do man,..Yeah I do what I do nigga,..(Yeah I do what I do man2)..I just do what I do nigga..keeping it gangster & keeping it trill..yeah, yeah..keeping it gangster & trill man..that's what I do Yeah,..(thats what I do man,..Yeah2)..keeping it gangster & trill man, Yeah...
I do what I do man, I just do what I do man, I just do what I do..(Yeah, keeping it gangsta & keeping it trill*2)..,thats what I do..Yeah I do what I do..Yeah..I just do what I do Yeah..
Yeah I'm staying gangsta , Yeah I'm staying trill nigga..Please excuse me, Yeah I might slip up & say ignorant **** sometimes homie,.. Lord please forgive me..Uhh, I'm changing up hip hop mane, Noo it will never be the same, Yeah its under my control now lames, Aye these ***** *** rappers under mind control, by Satan, they programed to deceive us, they so full of mischeif,yeah they rapping lies to ya just to be famous, so don't follow what seems cool, because they are the white mans trap.. Yeah it's just an illusion dude to fool you, just be yo self dawg, look up to Jesus..
Uhh..(I just do what I do Yeah2)..I do what I do man..(I just do what I do nigga2)..keeping it gangster & trill man..(Yeah I do what I do man2)..Yeah..(I do what I do..Yeah2)..I just do what I do..Yeah..I do what I do nigga..I just do what I do..Oooo,..(Yeah2)..keeping it gangster & keeping it trill.. Ohh,..(I just do what I do Yeah2)..I just do what I do man,..Yeah I do what I do nigga,..(Yeah I do what I do man2)..I just do what I do nigga..keeping it gangster & keeping it trill..yeah, yeah..keeping it gangster & trill man..that's what I do Yeah,..(thats what I do man,..Yeah2)..keeping it gangster & trill man, Yeah...
I do what I do man, I just do what I do man, I just do what I do..(Yeah, keeping it gangsta & keeping it trill*2)..,thats what I do..Yeah..I do what I do..Yeah..I just do what I do Yeah..
My dude, just do you, keep it gangster & keep it trill always dawg..Ooo,..I'm wit my family heading to the top of the food chain homie..Yeah we so hungry eating up anybody that try to interfere wit the gang game plan mane..OFTR..We all real gangsters, we move in silence, but still be making alot of noise, like Jeeper Creepers..Uhh
We don't die man, we just get bigger & stronger & multiply ***** we all one, we are own army & government..we fully armored..
Yeah OFTR, we keep it so trill, Yeah we keep it so gangster man..,Yeah we underrated but still is the best Yess.., I just want peace yeah man, but don't ever try to take advantage of me..Aye ***** ****** keep thinking **** sweet wit me then yo *** will get busted like a soft ***** in jail man & I mean what I say no facades about me, **** policts homie..Uhh
1..2..3 more versers that I got in me to spit, but Imma keep this song short,..Yeah..This is more than just about nothing, what up to Wale & The whole DMV my nig.. & Shoutout to Shy Glizzy yo man, we gotta collaborate one day, but if you don't wanna, then its cool homie, Yeah it is what it is,..Imma still keep it g wit ya..
Noo, I won't steal yo chain, Imma just keep moving along & just mind my business mane..Ayoo..
I got 1,2,3 pre rolls stuffed that I ain't even had to touch,yo woman came over & did it for me dawg.. Because Imma Thug,Yeah..& she prepared bowls for me too, because Im gangster..Uhh..
I just do what I do keeping it gangster & keep it trill, like a real ***** should..Lets go..Ohh Yeah..
Uhh..(I just do what I do Yeah2)..I do what I do man..(I just do what I do nigga2)..keeping it gangster & trill man..(Yeah I do what I do man2)..Yeah..(I do what I do..Yeah2)..I just do what I do..Yeah..I do what I do nigga..I just do what I do..Oooo,..(Yeah2)..keeping it gangster & keeping it trill.. Ohh,..(I just do what I do Yeah2)..I just do what I do man,..Yeah I do what I do nigga,..(Yeah I do what I do man2)..I just do what I do nigga..keeping it gangster & keeping it trill..yeah, yeah..keeping it gangster & trill man..that's what I do Yeah,..(thats what I do man,..Yeah2)..keeping it gangster & trill man, Yeah...
I do what I do man, I just do what I do man, I just do what I do..(Yeah, keeping it gangsta & keeping it trill*2)..thats what I do..Yeah..I do what I do..Yeah..I just do what I do Yeah..
(I do what I do, Yeah*3).., & nobody else can do what I does, Noo, never they ho's, they weak,they soft, even if I send them a verse they could never be Young Ston,..Noo, they can never be down in my gang, Noo they can't smoke or drink wit me, not even yo broad, because she's had you..yo she's infected wit a ***** ***** syndrome.. So noo I don't want the ** for real dawg, Yeah that's for sure..Uhh..
I'm (keeping it trill nigga2) & I'm (keeping it gangster2).. Yeah like I should,Yeah that's for show,..Yeah I'm (keeping it trill nigga2) & I'm (keeping it gangster2)..like that's all I know..that's real, & that's for sure...Oh..
I just do what I do, Yeah I do what I do..I just do what I do,..(I do what I do*2)..I just do what I do..
OFTR (Yeah nigga*3)..Yeah..Young Ston
Dec 30, 2015
Dec 30, 2015 at 3:42 AM UTC
"Between the Judicial, Legislative and Executive branches
as well as the DMV , DOD, and our failing Public Schools,
it's a ******* wonder I abide by the Government at all."
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 10:47 PM UTC
“To us, white girls are exotic,”
says my Arab American boyfriend.
At that moment, my brain ceases
to make sense of those words
in that order.
Exotic? White? Girl?
Me? Me. He means... me.
So this is what I say
to my Arab American boyfriend
who has
more culture in his pinky
than all of white America combined.
From what I can tell,
to be white in America is
boring static,
AM radio on a Sunday morning
with a broken dial
on a back road in the boonies.
It is the culture born by everything borrowed but wrongfully claimed
as its own invention.
To be white, in America, tastes like
cream of wheat
with no hope of brown sugar.
It is a tumbleweed-kind-of-rootless
and just as desert dry.
It is colorless, odorless, tasteless—
and will choke you slowly
if you don’t build up a tolerance.
But
if you’re lucky enough
to be white in America,
for about a hundred bucks
and a swab of the cheek,
the Internet can tell you
where you came from.
Even if that makes you feel cultured,
tomorrow you will wake up
and still be
white in America.
To be white in America, I thought,
was as far from exotic
as the self-loathing, middle aged guy
behind the counter
at your local DMV.
But white girls, he says, are exotic.
Perhaps it’s because pumpkin spice
oozes from my pasty pores,
or that “there ain’t no laws
when you’re drinkin’ the Claws.”
Maybe he couldn’t resist the fact
that the Starbucks barista
knows my order
better than my name,
or that my hair blowdries pin straight—
no matter the time of year.
I wonder if it’s the combo of
black leggings, messy buns,
and work out tanks—
or the fact that I think I’m saving the whole god **** sea turtle population
with my stainless steel straw.
Exotic?
Maybe it’s my compulsive nature
to buy in bulk, to pet every dog I see,
and to cry over Queer Eye episodes.
It couldn’t possibly be
the steady diet of rom coms,
my collection of Birkenstocks,
or the apple cinnamon candle
burning on my windowsill
that reminds me of “fall y’all,”
but then again, who knows?
To me, my whiteness is a privilege
that will forever be misinterpreted
as entitlement by every person
who checks that “white” box
on the form
without checking themselves too.
“To us, white girls are exotic,” he says.
White girl is just happy
he likes her in spite of it.
Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 10:10 PM UTC
America needs a poor, ***** mother for president.
We need a Muslim for vice president and a feminist to lead the army.
America needs a homeless man with no health insurance and AIDS to allocate food stamps,
gays to run the senate, and lesbians to run the house.
America needs a president who’s been shot at,
*****
and ****** on his whole life.
A person who has held their dying child,
losing a battle that cancer has already won,
buried up to the knees hospital bills.
America should be run by a person that wakes up every morning with no heat or air conditioner.
Who has fought in a war,
shakes in the night,
and lives on minimum wage.
Someone who takes the bus, the subway, and owns one pair of sneakers,
There is no time or money for anything else.
We need an inner city teacher for president.
Someone who spends 4 hours on Sundays preaching for president,
Just to go home and put on his wife's dress.
America needs a straight talker and a street walker to head the FBI.
An illegal for the CIA,
And a transgender for the DOJ.
But that will never happen.
What I have realized is that there is no longer a distinction between what is right, and what is real.
Real, is a leader is one that has been to the free clinic,
waited in line at the DMV,
and buys clothes from Walmart.
Real, is a president that is no stranger to violence.
A vice president who has been to county.
That has been fed jail food,
strip searched,
and wasted years that they will never get back.
We, the people do not fly around in private jets,
Puffing on Cuban cigars.
We, the people do not solely consist of old, rich men,
Making decisions for young, poor women.
Telling us what we can and can’t do.
Who we can and can’t love.
Widening the gap between the haves and haves nots.
We the people know hard work,
We know blood,
We know sweat,
We know tears,
But what we do not know,
Is how to engage ourselves in the goings on in the world around us.
Take responsibility,
hold your own,
and question everything.
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 6:31 PM UTC
I think about family dinners and cards
How we played skipbo instead of poker
And you were ok with being there anyways
Even though it seemed pointless
And now I'm making new memories
But I don't want to lose ours
They're beautiful
They hurt
They remind me of what we were
Before I realized I didn't feel the same
When I left you said you'd miss my family
I didn't realize I'd miss yours so much too
Now your back in your hometown
One I'll never see again
And I'm always back in mine
But you won't be
I think about motorcycle classes
The ones I'll never take
Because all I remember is the DMV
You forgot papers
And I had to go to work
But we got to talk on the drive
That made it worth the seemingly wasted time
Our home that is now so empty
Finally made me feel safe
And though this apartment is basically the same
It's not my home
I don't have a home anymore
Even those days in the old houses
You gave so much light to my darkness
But eventually my demons won
My empty soul could not be filled
By even your genuine goodness
Because I didn't face my feelings then either
I think of the day I proposed to you
I had it all planned out
The food, the picnic, the drinks, the flowers
Our night at the hotel
We watched It's Complicated
Which is pretty ironic now
The lady at the front desk was so excited for us
Even though I couldn't check in alone
Apparently you have to be 21 for that
And we were so young
But we were happy in that moment
I haven't really talked about it yet
Because my feelings don't make much sense
Is this regret I feel?
Or am I just plagued by the pain of knowing just how badly I hurt you?
I am hurting too
And even in those moments
You're still the only one I want to talk to
2 years of memories
2 years of putting up with my problems
You deserve so much more
And I hope you find it one day
Because I couldn't give you what you gave to me
Your unconditional love and safety
I only broke you down
And left you wounded by my mistakes and misjudgment
Ignorance was bliss
And this reality is destroying my sanity
But I need to face these feelings
So this pain can stop killing me
Oct 4, 2017
Oct 4, 2017 at 12:45 PM UTC
cherry sweet smoke
drifting slow circles
barely masks the scent of... burned coffee? or is it mold?
it really brings out the apathetic atmosphere
of this windowless waiting room.
dimly lit and dingy
a single bare bulb clinging to life
...and failing -
f l i c k e r s w i t h t h e r a p i d p u l s e o f a h e a r t g i v i n g o u t.
while peeling Mint Green paint adds a sense of despair
("*it smells definitely like **** in here*")
the grout needs a good scrub to remove the flaking brown stains
reminiscent of dried blood and chew spit
This. is. where. My dreams languish
with bloodshot eyes
with cramped backs
awkward and uncomfortable
queued up to to die in some forgotten room
located down that rather unpleasant looking hallway
filed away for a rainy day that will never come ~
one dead dream is a tragedy
a thousand dead dreams are just statistic
Mar 30, 2012
Mar 30, 2012 at 10:33 PM UTC
We went from “who loves orange soda?” to take a shot for me.
To waiting in lines at the DMV, from waiting in lines at the school dance like “bruh hold my spot for me”
From N64 controllers to leasing a Toyota Corolla
Dealing with these adult life problems we don’t have no control of
From pillow forts to the rents due
From action figures to hopes of six figures
From razor scooters to shaving with razors
From love letters to car notes
crazy right?
The only losses we worried about were argued through Rock Paper Scissors.
Now we worry about losing jobs, material things and on the news daily we lose our brothers and sisters.
The only pain we felt was scraping our knees on the concrete.
Now we scrape change tryna pay the bills hoping that our ends meet.
I wish I could go back, I close my eyez with my memories and feel gratification.
And the thing I miss most of all at that tender age is my imagination
I can’t believe I couldn’t wait to get big
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 11:24 PM UTC
she tells me she wants to go to the beach
on a day where we may each have the time off
i tell her "of course, i'd love to"
when really in my head i want to tell her
"i would take every **** day off just to go anywhere with you".
the beach, DMV, a gravel parking lot, my mother's abandoned apartment, her father's old high school, the desert, a hospital waiting room, her wealthy indecisions.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 4:35 PM UTC
As I held my iPad to pull my airfare information,
The sudden blood rush pass through my senses,
as I glimpse fellow travelers in the airport.
It is this feeling of adventure knowing I would never know these strangers,
but the ideal we share a moment to explore another place profoundly echoes the inner child in me.
It's like a candy in the mouth or a very fine wine,
as I look through the plane window of the vast clouds,
And gasp as the jet takes off taking my nerves into a new height.
While my ear drums felt the extreme pressure begged to swallow my spit,
This feeling of exploring explode my emotions with uncontrollable excitement.
I just want to jump and do hundred push ups as the plane lands,
Because you felt this cramp like you were packaged in a box in the flight,
And now you are free to move and speed walk to your next destination!
When I arrive at the hotel,
The sudden desire to take a nap take place from the jet lag,
Since all your senses took an over charge!
You know adventure was just a beginning,
Because now you are in the nation's Capitol,
And there isn't enough time to explore everything in DMV!
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 6:01 AM UTC
I’m sorry. I’m sorry for accidentally lying when I said I wanted to be with you.
I think perhaps I fall in love often – I fall hard and fast, without remorse or concern.
I think perhaps I fall out of love often – I grow tired and bored, unexcited and suppressed.
Unfortunately I fall in love before others and I fall out of love before others. I leap into the arms of people who aren’t ready to commit, then walk away just when they are ready to endure.
I hurt people. A lot.
I’m not sure when it started, but its still going on. I can think back on 3, 4, 6 people in the last few years that I have broken it off with after I promised them love. I left without warning, without hesitation. I feel bad about it because I don’t want to hurt people, I don’t want to cause pain, but I feel that letting things fester while I am unhappy in a relationship is worse.
It still hurts. I still watch tears fall. I am still avoided when passing on the sidewalk. I am still badmouthed in fraternity bathrooms and in social media. I watch my best friend and lover become someone who hates me, who wants to cause me pain, who then spreads my secrets and laughs at my failures.
I don’t want to hurt people anymore, so perhaps it is best that I do not date. Perhaps it is best if I never commit or kiss anyone without the careless and superficial setting of a night club dance floor. Perhaps I need to mature and wait until I can find peace and stability, where I won’t switch between adoration and frustration so quickly and suddenly.
My friend might have been right when she said “I don’t think you can be in a relationship right now.”
Maybe I can’t be. Even if I can, maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe I should just accept that I need to wait for life to take its course and should stop trying to capture every shining opportunity that I happen to meet in the library, the pool, a coffee shop, or the gym.
Maybe I should let those opportunities go past and should wait for the ones that come when I am older. Perhaps I should wait for the golden opportunities I pass in the grocery store, at work, in line for the DMV.
Is my maturity the issue? Am I subconsciously not ready to commit myself to someone? Do I have some twisted sadistic sense of humor in which I like tricking people into thinking I love them?
I’m sorry. I’m sorry for accidentally lying when I said I wanted to be with you. I’m sorry for when I made up some ******** excuse about why it wasn’t going to work when the reality is that I was bored and restless.
To you – M, B, L, M, A, and R. I’m sorry that I am a piece of **** I’m sorry that the devil has blue eyes.
You are better off without me than you ever would have been with me.
Jun 10, 2016
Jun 10, 2016 at 9:51 PM UTC
In the not too far off distance
I here the faint splashing of an indie song,
That reminds me of you ?
Maybe not of you,
But your gait
And if I want to reminisce about
Your demeanor I will twist
And gnarl and damage the song
To be who you were,
To me , it is as if
Whenever I think of the grand entrance
Of the natural history museum you are there
On the steps, in a deceitful black dress
And I weep like a wound infected
Half because you are heaven
An eighth because you are a day at the DMV
Or worse
I’m not alone
I have a partner for checkers
The computer
But I find that you can’t have a laugh
About how bad you are
With someone that much better than you
I’m now on loan
But what a strange feeling it is to own
Half of someone
Like when you take a lean
On a car,
Sure, the bank could take it back
But would they understand the eight-week-old,
Chulupa in the back seat?
Would anyone understand
Your tongue?
Or might they ****
The life out of it
Only to cut it out later
I recognize the song
And draw it closer to me
I have bent the sound to fit me,
To suit you,
Fake- deaf, I tune it out
Only to have my conk- shell –for- an- ear
Throw it back up in a fishy -mess
Then it laughs at me and says,
“Don’t be silly now, I’m your song forever.”
I can’t handle that
So I run away leaving my brain
Behind
My brain is on the ground bleeding
Saying, “Oh! How embarrassing to wear red after my birthday!”
Dec 23, 2009
Dec 23, 2009 at 8:18 AM UTC
Pick them out
Like you’re picking a lock
And throw away the key
Once you’re inside
My brain, throbbing, uncertain
Panicked a bit
Tossing and turning
Before I walk to the fridge
Open it up, touch my eyes
Pick them out
Out of that zip-lock
They’re fresh, but not able
To see the light in your smile
Or the venom dripping off your canines
Why, dear, do you fail to announce yourself?
It’s not polite to lurk about so
In my mind, like a waterbed
You float beside me, liquid gushing
Places between us
You can’t have me forever
I’m meant for just now
Be happy with that or
Or, Or, Or,
You can just take my trash out with you
To the DMV or wherever you’re driving
You’re legal and willing
So pull to the curb when I scream blue and red
Show me credentials and I’ll let you flee
Go on then
Jul 10, 2010
Jul 10, 2010 at 12:54 PM UTC
The line far from sparse.
The room humid and hot.
Gazing around the small space
one would hear and see
patience wearing thin like
cracks in the earth
waiting on the volcano to erupt.
Tapping of the feet.
Shifting of the legs.
Sighs fill the stale air while
arms fold and unfold.
Whines of impatient children
drum against angry ears.
Elders gripe and groan
about aching bones.
Teens grin for the flash
of the camera, praying
the first picture will
come out right.
Coming to this place will
make anyone learn patience.
Welcome to the DMV.
Aug 5, 2010
Aug 5, 2010 at 5:43 PM UTC
and pennies for literature. I hope all your clothes are clean because now you are baroque. Don't fix it. Ornate -- statuesque. Not in your house, not in your pocket book. Money can't buy me art. or was it heart? This is the license you can't get at the DMV.
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 1:05 PM UTC
"The DMV is the biggest collection of idiots working for ********
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 7:22 PM UTC
Life should come with a disclaimer
“This **** doesn’t get any easier”
Stamped on the back of every hand
as babies exit their mother’s womb.
There are some things in life,
everyone should be told up front.
Life isn’t fair, so don’t expect it to be.
Love changes, so don’t hold onto it too tightly.
People are dishonest, be careful who you trust.
Never go to the DMV on a Monday.
Unfortunately life doesn’t come with a disclaimer.
When you are 40 you look back and realize
how much time you could have saved
if someone had just told you about the DMV and Monday’s
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 2:46 AM UTC
Some poems are pretty
about dreams or life or love
But I mostly prefer poems
Like the underside of stuff
I like poems like fruit, ripped open
and getting in my eyes
Like the underside of rocks, crawling and alive
I like poems like the inside of apartment buildings
Like my parents, talking in their room
and hearing them say my name
Like waiting for the bus and edging away
from the drunk guy who keeps talking to me
I like poems like long lines at the DMV, like
the music they play in grocery stores
I like my poems pale, with their ribs sticking out
shadows under their eyes from years of sleepless nights
I like ugly poems, poems that look like me
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 3:20 AM UTC
—
neglect and respect do not rhyme,
**{will grant you one,
will give you none.
will demand one,
will send you some.
you poets,
always thinking
you can get away
with murdering
the English language.
***** of assonance,
you do not fool me,
I’ve killed a thousand
men’s “original”rhymes,
while you’ve been
fast sleeping,
they’ve been
fast seeping.
I’ll give you no quarter,
won’t spare a lousy dime,
my spare change,
is poet-unaffordable,
cheap suited hucksters.
work and ****
do rhyme.
you can be one,
if you do not
put in some.
work by day,
slave by night.
awake to the sun’s
inquiry, what have
you done for me
lately?
IF
all you have to show is this
scribbilus miscellaneous,
tear up your lice-ence,
poetic and DMV, you
ain’t going nowhere.
was branded by hot iron,
early on,
brandy channing.
your best nightmare,
guidance counselor,
extraordinaire,
great big fairie,
poseur, exposer,
m u r d e r e r
of awful poetry}**
WHAT,
what do you stand for?
Jun 26, 2020
Jun 26, 2020 at 3:34 PM UTC
I can't afford basic income
I'm too full of selfish thoughts
honestly I'd probably just cop a quarter pound of ***
and smoke it down until my entire mind rots
and maybe other people are okay -
letting their private lives be watched - which, for me
is fine - I have nothing to hide, but don't ask
"by us or them?" when we're supposed to be on the same side.
Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC
1. When people introduce me to strangers they make sure to point out that I sing a lot
Not just because I do sing a lot
Which I do
But because they want to warn people that I sing at the most inappropriate times
When I sing people look at me like I'm playing drums in a library.
2. There's a lot more space between us now
Like a whole pillow
Maybe even like a whole pillow turned sideways
Too far to touch
But just close enough in case either one of us ever really want to reach
I don't see that happening
3. I'm a song that is stuck in your head
Good luck with that
(A completely unrelated fourth point in two parts)
4a. It's really easy to transition from a relationship to a long distance relationship
4b. It is hard to stay in them once one of you realizes the "ship" in relationship probably doesn't refer to a an actual boat.
(Back to the poem)
5. Most of the songs I know from start to finish are sad songs
This is probably why people don't ask me to sing at their weddings
Maybe there are other reasons
6. My son's favorite song is "Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone"
That's probably not good parenting
When I sing my son doesn't look at me like I'm playing drums in the library
He looks at me like I'm swinging chainsaws in heart valves
He's not wrong
7. Some people tell jokes
They say, "Do you know who sings that song"
I say, "Of course it's Billie Holiday.
They say, "Let's keep it that way!"
Which is funny...
Except
**** you!
8. I know that sometimes you sit inside my larynx at night
Listening for your song
I know it's you, I can here the leaves crunch under your shoes
I don't come in to say hi
I don't stop either
I don't want you to know these songs are for you
I don't want you to know I'm reaching
9. You are a song I know from start to finish
10. If you didn't want me to play drums in here you shouldn't have built it with such great acoustics
I see you haven't filled this place with the new boy's furniture yet
11. When I introduce myself to strangers I use my name
12. I sing at work
In line at the super market
At the DMV
Waiting for someone to answer the door
Walking away from a breakup
Driving away from you
13. I am a song stuck in your head
Isn't it funny how his finger tips on your rib cage play piano tracks from songs I sang to you
I am a song stuck in your head
Isn't it funny
How his finger tips on your rib cage play piano tracks from songs I sang to you
I'm a song stuck in your head
14. La ti da la ti da ti da ti da da da la ti da
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 12:00 PM UTC
Honestly I believe that I know what hell would be like
A place of slumbering demons
Some place that is practically empty
I bet most people would consider hell to be a place like the DMV
A long line waiting for everyone to come
Because eventually everyone has to come here
Everyone has something that holds them down
Something that constantly burns at the back of their mind
They see this as a melting ***
A steamy place of red hot flames and pointy rock for them to be impaled on
But I believe that Hell is more like the place that we are currently at
Is not one of hot flames and pointy rock, but the land we already embrace
It is one where people are already impaled
But not by demons necessarily
Maybe this is all a delusion that we live in
The devil already sent us to hell, but made it look like life
That really when you are looking you are truly blinded to your own reality
Because if you could see the evil that was going on you would already know
That possibly there are no people and more likely no angels
The truth is that you are one of those demons
You are one of those things
Thinking you could never be something like that
But in reality you are just that
Does that mean there are not lesser demons
No
There are worse terrors than yourself
But when you think back of how much more you could have done
How many were in pain
Maybe Unconsciously. Maybe unknowingly. You ignored them
Just know that not trying
Can be as bad as doing.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 11:05 PM UTC
But first,
let me apologize for my legs.
For you,
will never be able to see through a gap in my thighs.
Her's are a single lane.
Where you coast on the greens for eternity.
Mine?
A 6 lane highway to the DMV
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 9:50 PM UTC