.
          
                                   Fu
                             u    c k     u
                           c       i t         c
                         k          F           k
                       i             u              i
                     t               c                 t
                    F             k    i               F
                   u             t       F              u
                   c              u     c                c
                    k              k   i                 k
                     i                 t                  i
                       t              F               t
                         F           u            F
                            u        c         u
                                       k
                                       i
                                       t

Liquor might be the death of me
But I don't care, it's a part of me
Every time I have an extra 10 bucks, the liquor store I hit
I get drunk and call some girls..in the morning I'm like ****
Why is she mad, what did I say
Fucket, it's another day
Can't worry about what she's feeling
Nobody knows the cards my life has been dealing
It's ****** up, lonely boredom typing on some unknown website
Listening to Linkin Park "In the End"
My words are deeper than "bands a make her dance"
Yet I type in rhymes to make this **** have a cool end
My mind is ****** up
I forgot what this poem was about?
Liquor, oh yea. I have a bottle most people would get alcohol poisoning off of
I can drink it, no problem just wake up needing chapstick
Spent 100s on college books now I'm broke
Man I'ma loner I neeed a *** to poke
Lookin at my tatts glad I don't smoke
Liquor, I drink brown I drink clear
Straight up (ghetto talk) **** a beer

for sandheden er at jeg har fucket op
og at du også har fucket op
og sandheden er at du kunne kvæle mig
og at jeg sgu nok stadig ville sige undskyld
fordi jeg fik dig der ud til det punkt
hvor du følte det var nødvendigt for at få mig til at holde kæft
og sandheden er at selvom jeg burde daffe
at mit vindue stadig er åbent
men jeg bor på femte sal
og når jeg ved hvordan du er og hvordan du tænker
så tror jeg ikke dine svedige håndflader
ville kunne klare en tur op af vandrøret
(A.M)