"hubbard" poems
Jack and Jill ran up the hill,
To perv on miss muffin
Getting her fill,
She was getting it hard boiled
From Humpy Dumpty,
Who fell of the wall,
Yolk sprayed up her back,
Her screaming she wanted more.
Mary, Mary,
Quite Contrary...
How did you make it grow,
You played with the bells,
And my cockle shells and it did grow,
Mary, Mary,
Quite Contrary
Not much words to show,
A mouth your good at what you do,
Mary my sweet little bike I like to ride so.
Old Mother Hubbard
Liked it up the back cupboard,
From the younger gents
She knows,
She liked to **** meat till the marrow
Did flow swallowed the lot in one go,
Now empty is the bone.
Who thought a lady in years,
Had all this energy on the go...
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 11:53 AM UTC
Amongst the monardas
Horsetail, Susan's black eyes
You can almost feel it:
freedom, life.
It could just be the heat.
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 3:14 PM UTC
Hail Mary! A pseudo-Buddhist
practices pragmatic paganism
with the guilt of a Catholic,
due to their samaric duties
handed from the true-blue Krishna.
But soft, through yonder window
a star collapses and light
is ****** through and destroyed
in a black hole foretold by
Hawking and, why not, Hubbard.
People are polyamorous
for their mono/poly theistic god(s).
But, how dare they be so bold
as to think they know about
anything about any-fucking-thing.
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 4:26 PM UTC
The plane is emotion.
The form is a gentle rider,
she pushes bullets off cliffs, she hugs the stars.
Catches the moon eyeing her with one
great big hand wrapped on its ****
spins the bell of her dress
round and round.
Sifted from the Earth, man moody
cleft in heaps of his entrails,
no progress has been made.
My metal mother pulls hula hoops for zulu,
she rips down the shelves and pulls
Bobby Dylan from the wall. She says,
"grrrplleeopzhrka." And the smoke gets into
my eyes and burns my nostrils too.
In the great wind screen, footprints of man,
Native American blood weeps on my bright
Summer burning, no regency cleared. The
outlook denied. It sits stagnant, maddening
with its blockhead on sideways. Heavy, old
mutter hubbard wilting gold in her stare.
Mess comes. She spoils, her skin is loud
and anointed, her fecund white placard
is thinner than air. People look at each other,
a goblin, two trollops, the green woolen winter-wear
of a soldier in despair. Only a putrid noon, escaping,
cuts the flesh from the garden. Cuts out all the weakness,
the hope, the love, every thing owned, every one cleared.
The skin trap and oyster flap. The rich mixture of voices,
nothing holds common that bond, that few could look upon,
that youth could-
none of the old things work anymore.
Just a wicked boredom trickling in blood down her legs, just
the lust trickling down her legs, dear mommy, I obey.
And when the summer months set in mahogany, and the icicle
feat swallows us up, dear-
death
Winter
lips
moths buzzing
mouths
fuzzz
your sweet bomb
bon bon
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 7:06 PM UTC
Some say the end is near.
Some say we'll see Armageddon soon.
I certainly hope we will.
I sure could use a vacation from this
********
three
ring
circus sideshow of
freaks here in this hopeless ******* hole we call L.A.,
The only way to fix it is to flush it all away.
Any ******* time. Any ******* day.
Learn to swim, I'll see you down in Arizona Bay.
Fret for your figure and
Fret for your latte and
Fret for your lawsuit and
Fret for your hairpiece and
Fret for your Prozac and
Fret for your pilot and
Fret for your contract and
Fret for your car,
It's a ********
three
ring
circus sideshow of
freaks here in this hopeless ******* hole we call L.A.,
The only way to fix it is to flush it all away.
Any ******* time. Any ******* day.
Learn to swim, I'll see you down in Arizona Bay.
Some say a comet will fall from the sky.
Followed by meteor showers and tidal waves.
Followed by fault lines that cannot sit still.
Followed by millions of dumbfounded dipshits.
Some say the end is near.
Some say we'll see Armageddon soon.
I certainly hope we will cause
I sure could use a vacation from this
Stupid **** silly **** stupid ****
One great big festering neon distraction,
I've a suggestion to keep you all occupied:
Learn to swim. [x2]
Mom's gonna fix it all soon.
Mom's coming 'round to put it back the way it ought to be.
Learn to swim.
**** L. Ron Hubbard and **** all his clones.
**** all these gun-toting
Hip gangster wannabes.
Learn to swim.
**** retro anything.
**** your tattoos.
**** all you junkies and **** your short memory.
Learn to swim.
**** smiley glad-hands with hidden agendas.
**** these dysfunctional, Insecure actresses.
Learn to swim.
Cause I'm praying for the end;
I'm praying for tidal waves
I wanna see the ground give way.
I wanna watch it all go down.
Mom, please flush it all away!
I wanna see it go right in and down.
I wanna watch it go right in.
Watch you flush it all away.
Time to bring it down again.
Don't just call me pessimist.
Try and read between the lines.
I can't imagine why you wouldn't
Welcome any change, my friend.
I wanna see it all come down.
**** it down.
Flush it down.
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 5:54 PM UTC
Oh, brave new world,
What the **** is this
Phenomenal metamorphosis?
I was cocooned by Kafka in Prague
Drank too much absinthe
Shocked by Tesla in Budapest
Shot by Serbian snipers in the rabbit hole
Saved by Jesus in Rome
Had a hell of a time with heathens on a party bus
Walked the rim of Vesuvius
Met a gypsy princess
Came home to mama's basement
Finished reading The Names by Don Delillo
Went back down to Florida
Where I lived with grandma in Spring Hill
Fell deep for a siren
An angel who saved my life
Had a nasty fever dream
Hell broke loose and I wrecked my car
Flew back to Los Angeles
Went to church and prayed
Stayed and worked for the family business
Explored Hubbard's cult, smoked *** and played
Too many sins to mention
I must confess the motherlode
No human here is much like God
How sad it is to know I'm in control
A butterfly pinned down in hell
You can reflect your face or soul
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 4:51 PM UTC
Just another metal bird
with a dictated flight path
I'm just another ****** up ray of sunshine
Too many people that come and pray at my shrine
L Ron Hubbard was just the start of an ideology that's too dangerous
Too many people following a leader instead of their ideals, it's so real
yet it's only as tangible as the wind
it's not what you think
it's really not what you think
wishing life could be darker
just so I could enjoy the brighter day that I've kept a bay, that I've slept away
starting another fray.
just so you can feel at home, raised on a battlefield of the sexes, getting off on your exes pain, one more kiss in the rain, one more kiss that will maime,
another made up character that we look up too, just to hope we can be true to oursleves, cause after all were different, like everyone else.
yet anywhere else is a better view, than your own eye sockets.
Hiding more than your ring finger in that pocket, destroying your mother and building rockets.
it's our adolescence, time to fly on our own, and leave those that raised us behind. in a neighborhood that watched us grow.
I've seen the terror churn inside too many good people...
maybe that's why people still believe in god, not because they think he's real, but because they hope he is.
because maybe.
just maybe.
He'll be at the end of this long and dark tunnel.
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 5:43 PM UTC
Jack and Jill went up the hill,
Jack died on ***** and Jill on pills.
Mary lost her little lamb
but she just don’t give a ****
Little Boy Blue blows a new horn,
he’s the star of animal ****
Humpty’s crack was caused by bad smack,
and Little Bo Peep finally murdered those sheep.
Old Mother Hubbard sells shrooms from her cupboard
and Mother Goose used to be called Lady Loose.
Old King Cole like to smoke pole,
while Little Miss Muffet licked **** on her tuffet.
All the kings horses banged all the kings men,
then headed to the Caterpillar’s ***** den.
The Pied Piper dropped E in the village well
and danced all those children to techno hell.
These fairy tales I’ve tainted, they’re twisted and sick.
So read it again and hide it away quick!
Mom and Daddy will yell, this isn’t ok,
but I’ve painted the truth at the end of the day.
Life isn’t all sunshine and roses and smiles.
Sometimes it’s darkness, loose women and their wiles.
I’ve just told the truth my dear little friend,
I hope you enjoyed it but this is The End…
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 3:44 PM UTC
This one's for the 20 kids
Now all dead, god forbid
For the parents who now cry
Who always ask themselves, "why?"
For those teachers killed on the job
Their entire city mourns and sobs
For all the people who took a fall
I support you and I bless you all.
To the familes of Charlotte Bacon, Daniel Barden, Rachel Davino, Olivia Engel, Josephine Gay, Ana M. Marquez-Greene, Dylan Hockley, Dawn Hochsprung, Madeleine F. Hsu, Catherine V. Hubbard, Chase Kowalski, Jesse Lewis, James Mattioli, Grace McDonnell, Anne Marie Murphy, Emilie Parker, Jack Pinto, Noah Pozner, Caroline Previdi, Jessica Rekos, Avielle Richman, Lauren Rousseau, Mary Sherlach, Victoria Soto, Benjamin Wheeler, and Allison N. Wyatt.
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 9:00 PM UTC
Dear God above I beg of thee to reveal yourself.
Dear God below I beg you to make your presence known.
Dear King of Olympus cast down your thunderbolt.
Dear Xenu will you show us if Hubbard was right?
Dear Flying Spaghetti Monster I'd even accept you.
I can see no evidence for a God, but I beg to.
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 6:25 AM UTC
It was Freddie Hubbard on the trumpet
blowing on about some blue moon,
as if the yellow one that has occupied
the night and sometimes morning sky
wasn’t enough, when I decided to write
a poem about thinking about tomorrow.
How I will rise before the rest, run a few
miles on a treadmill overlooking a busy
boulevard and read the private memoirs
of a justified sinner. And when the tomorrow
that I was thinking about comes with its new
minutes and hours, its new obstacles and
headaches, I will think back to today
and remember the morning kiss you gave,
the silence between your body and mine,
the amount of times you changed your outfit
before the lake, the museum: the live dances
from cultures around the world that kept us from
viewing new installments, the interracial ballet
dancers tip-toeing to a tune well-known to childhood
ears. But the one memory of yesterday that will be
with me until death do us part will not be of the
Shakespeare that I read nor of the raspberry
cheesecake we shared but of you: sitting alone,
waist-deep in a bubble bath. ******* pert and
motherly exposed. Resting comfortably above
your ribcage. Showing more beauty than age.
A glass of cabernet sitting where the razors and
shampoo usually sat. A young adult novel in the
white palms your small hands. But yes. The one
memory that will be with me until death do us
part and well, even after that, will be of me looking
at you: naked in a tub, your glasses over the bridge
but on the edge of your nose, and the rest of my life
before me.
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 8:12 AM UTC
~
*today a friend
reminded me,
a quote by
Elbert Hubbard,
"love grows by giving.
the love we give away
is the only love we keep.
the only way to retain love
is to give it away."*
indeed,
so let it be
write the inscription
let my epitaph read,
**"lived fully...
gave plenty
loved gently
died empty."**
~
*and let the post script read...
"yes, his whisky ran dry
as he lived so he died."*
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 1:36 AM UTC
Fractured Fairies
the stalk was tall but Jack climbed high
they said he was looking for a golden goose
but the giant wasn't keen on him getting by
he caught the little brat and kicked his caboose
old mother Hubbard lived in a shoe
she had lots of sole and a rather large tongue
her old man was proficient in kung foo
when she bent over he kung foo'd her ****
Alice lived in wonderland she was constantly high
her and that crazy rabbit eating mushrooms wild
they looked into the looking glass and my oh my
they both had golden locks so neatly styled
once upon a time there were three bears
they couldn't eat the pourage on their first attempt
they shaved their bodys except for their ***** hairs
found out they were Jewish and now verklempt
little Miss Muffet sat on tuffet eating her curds and whey
along came a spider and sat down beside her
and she stomped him good put a crimp in his day
Mary had a little lamb what a big surprise
the doctor's scratched their heads in disbelief
they just couldn't even believe their eyes
but when old McDonald had a farm good grief
Gomer LePoet...
Sep 15, 2011
Sep 15, 2011 at 8:47 PM UTC
Bedtime stories we tell ourselves
Are actually quite funny if you really think about them
They all seem a little dark in their own way
Kind of like humpty dumpty
Who is this egg and why would be sitting
On a wall in the first place
And they always show the picture of him
Sitting with a pained grimace on his face
As his eggy innards are flowing on the ground
Or even the story of old mother hubbard
We sat in her cupboard eating her curds and whey
Who actually swallows a spider when they are eating
And if they did would they really die
Sometimes I wonder about the people who write these bedtime stories
And nursery rhymes
And wonder why parents keep telling their kids these stories
That seem to make little sense
But still seem to be very popular
Maybe we are just so used to telling them
That we don't actually sit and wonder
About what they really mean
Or how ridiculous a lot of them are
Maybe I just think too much about the little things
But I can't be the only one who thinks this way
Jan 26, 2012
Jan 26, 2012 at 7:31 AM UTC
Here's their "knowledge"
Here's the scoop
NOT scuttlebutt... the REAL ****
Be ye Popeye or Betty Boop
They will draw you in their loop...
This rope will hold you... it ain't loose
You will find it is a NOOSE.
This is interesting to read
Though it's crazy... that's agreed
You'll think these people smokin' ****
In the beginning there were some *thetans
(Interesting that rhymes with SATAN)*
They were bored with all the waiting
They were bored. Nothing to do.
These thetans could be me or you
Then... VIOLA... right on cue...
Here's an idea! The other shoe!
YES! Let's PLAY! We'll play a GAME!
It will be FUN! IT HAS A NAME!
M atter. E nergy. S pace. T ime.
The MEST universe! How sublime!
To find it's secrets will cost no dime
But thousands of BUCKS!
Should be a CRIME.
So these thetans all AGREE.
IT WAS THAT AGREEMENT, you see.
The M. E. S. T. Universe. *(Smokin' TREE?
Was Ronnie Hubbard on LSD?)*
We were AGREED you & me
That this game would then just BE.
Dynamite brains blow off my HAT?
It don't need no S.A.T.
My mind needs no extra watts
To figure out the problem with THAT.
**Can you think of ANY COUPLE
Whether married for 60 years
WHO AGREE ON EVERYTHING???
RIDICULOUS.**
So there you have it.
Their Genesis
I'll bring you more.
There's quite a list.
But I think you have the gist.
SCIENCE FICTION!!!
Not M. E. S. T. but MISSED!
Catherine E Jarvis
SoulSurvivor
(C) 2/23/2017
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 2:58 AM UTC
*A Story of Scientology and the Mental Health System Connection
SEEKER*
Now I can hear you saying to yourselves,
"So. You said you were smart. Why did you get involved with a crazy cult like Scientology?" Well. Two reasons. 1) I was raised an atheist (Humanist), but had a seeker's soul. I became very spiritual, like I said. I also had a desire to HELP people. Humanity. I still do. But because I had a godless upbringing I was left open to deception. And 2) I found a boyfriend. Or, I should say, he found me. One of Scientology's tried and true methods of recruitment.
I had another friend, a ***** Jewish scientologist (yes, there can be that sort of thing, as you can be "any faith" and still be a scientologist... hmph!). She introduced us. I was impressed by two things. He was an instructor at the "Mission". And he could tell you things that seemed psychic. One of the procedures for impressing people to sign up for classes and "processing" was this. Doug would position you in a certain part of the room. He'd have his back to you. Then he'd tell you to walk away from him... then stop abruptly.
**He'd be able to tell you when you stopped!** And he could do it every time! This really impressed me. Until I found out he looked into the reflective surface of a large glass covered poster that was on the wall! Lol! What a con artistic magician HE was! HA!
I was totally gone over by the registrar (salesperson). She stuck to me like glue until she FINALLY figured out, Yes! I had NO MONEY! So I didn't get any training or processing. Which was a BIG part of why I stuck around. I didn't even read "Dianetics" by L Ron Hubbard. Doug told me a little about it. But most of his energy was expended trying to get in my pants... a fruitless endeavor to say the least!
He was instrumental in getting me up to Phoenix for the fateful "Flag Orientation Tour". The recruitment campaign which would change my life forever...
Where I signed my life over to Scientology's Sea Organization for the next BILLION YEARS.
Mar 9, 2017
Mar 9, 2017 at 10:47 PM UTC
Jimena Hubbard was a poor lovely boy
Who grew up in the countryside
Rocks in his fists
He squeezed them hard
His muscles did the twists
And now his hands quietly wave away mists
A fish out of water
He wandered with otters
With berries and kittens
The world was his fodder
Then Jimena Hubbard met Hummina Bubbard
And Hummina Bubbard is now Hummina
Hubbard
So are
Martina
Lunesta
And Farina Hubbards
Through their old folks ponds
They swam and they ran
In their mouths, crabapples
And in their fists, rocks
They played in the dirt
And tied hair into knots
Then Martina
Lunesta
And Farina Hubbard
As grains do sway
Untied their knots
Now Jimena and Hummina
Rest in the soil
Three daisies in place
Where their love once toiled.
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 2:11 PM UTC
The air smelt of doom
Mystery hung in the room
No one was allowed to leave
Right on the job was Mr. Steve.
One by one they were called
He had them mauled
With questions often uncouth
But he had to get to the truth.
The smart as well as the shy
Had something for alibi
The tall and lean Mr. Brown
Said he was out of town
Ms. Percival said she wasn’t there
Had gone out to see a theater
Mr. Hubbard was stubbornly quiet
His face pale and ashen white
Ms. Christie who leant on a crutch
Was talking irrelevant too much.
Each one of them denied having heard
Any sound that could take them off guard
Tim the butler slept through the night
Janice heard nothing after putting out the light.
Mr. Steve fumed as his vexation grew
Knowing for sure not all said was true
The ****** has been committed by one of them
Who could it be in this hide-and-seek game?
Was the offence committed for material gain?
Who could benefit from these men and women?
Or could it be, more ghastly and strange,
The ****** was done as an act of revenge?
He couldn’t find flaws with any of alibi
There was no evidence to nail down the lie
He found it unsolvable, and that irked Mr. Steve
His reputation was at stake as a great detective.
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 8:09 AM UTC
Mother spinster’s sporcy spindle spaed a specious spider splenetically spinning a sparkling specimen of the spired and spherically eggish; still though spinose although sporadic, seemingly soft, deceivingly so, sacred, secret special place to stave off such besetments!
Her enchantment’s curse, no less the worse, arachnid terse in webs of verse, or plainly verse we shall rehearse from high above to stage below or thought to hanging from strangely gallows, the sickly web a trap thus cloven of heaven’s weaver said to woven in all her life never betrothen, she cast aside all such resentments!
And so Old Mother Hubbard then went to the cupboard speaking her cursed ways…
Along came Ariadne, the spider beside thee, winding her spinning, pointing thus pinning upon her the blame for all days. With no voice to speak, evading flood did she seek, a way up from the sea on the laurels of Mother’s uprooted tree. So was it ended, uprooted, upended, the guilt, blame and controversy. Umun-Hubbur, Humwawa, Humbaba, star-weaver and Hubbard and Ariadne!
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 9:56 PM UTC
Can't Afford
Life is slowly falling apart,
can't even afford to go to Walmart.
Can't even afford the Dollar Tree,
no window to throw out my *** of ***
Can't afford to pay my bills,
no money left for my bi-polar pills.
Can't afford to eat or drink,
I'm broke, is what I think.
No more water, no more electric,
I'm even to poor to be eccentric.
Can't afford gas or cable,
Yes, I am mentally unstable.
Can't afford to buy a pen, wrote this in blood,
in my tears, I'm drowning in the flood.
House is in foreclosure,
listen closely, you can hear the bulldozer.
Had to sell everything I own,
nobody will ever give me a loan.
I walk around in my underwear,
like Mother Hubbard, my cupboard is bare.
Not one job to be had,
can't afford to call my mom or dad.
Walls around are closing in,
no way out, I just can't win.
Can't afford to live, but afraid to die,
doesn't that make you wanna cry.
Can't afford to wipe my own ***
lets see you try to use broken glass.
If misery loves company,
where's the rest of the people with no money.
Can't afford a hair cut, my hair is so long,
my life is like a bad country song.
Tried selling drugs on the street,
things went good till I got beat.
In conclusion, I so **** broke,
my life turned out to be one fat joke.
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 12:25 PM UTC
good god a gaggle of girls
read the dispatch thrice; the hierarchical lines some straight and some dotted but all I know they got a genealogical baseball team femi-nine
and maybe an NFL eleven when the twins get older
(husbands and sons ride the motorcycle bench and
back up if necessary, and good for musical accompaniment)
~oh yeah,
for Medusa~
this megillah message team meant for me to assauge my
mother hubbard accusations only partial reveals the player’s names:
but if you google a
gaggle of strong women you become informed there is a:
Queens Esther, Miriam, an Eve, four matriarchal outfielders, Batsheva pitching and only Ruth, can catch her **** curveball
in between an occasional poem gig whose costs are covered
under the mental health clause of a health care plan
but only in
California
too cavalier, get it, you prefer this perhaps
sinewed strength in arms that can
carry three children at once,
age is not a factual issue,
for there is an army of
women soldiers who are a troop contingent,
everyone’s back is covered always-full stop-
they curve like the Earth’s crust,
magma formed strong and mineral rich,
curved to better resist
the comets the heavens cannot resist
to send & test the mettle
of a gaggle of stronger women sinewy arms entwined
reenforced
alas
the grandpa must here resist and rest,
lunch prep before Sgt. Stubby movie at noon,
in reclining chairs they ride like wild horses
and all our shushing noisier than their giggles
just google a gaggle of strong kids,
you’ll see what I mean
in this, we do possess a giggle of expertise
sunday 10:15am
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 10:28 AM UTC
Being an optimist after you've got everything you want doesn't count.
- Kin Hubbard
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 9:54 PM UTC
That girl doesn't know yet,
But she is going to fall
Madly in love with me.
I'm as sure of that as:
Mary breaking all the school rules;
The fox enjoying the gingerbread man;
The sky not falling on Chicken Little;
The safety of the three little pigs;
The birds eating Gretel's crumbs;
Midnight striking and the slipper dropping;
Cows jumbing moons, cats playing fiddles;
Doctor Foster making it to Gloucester;
Georgie making girls cry;
The little teapot getting steamed up;
The old man snoring;
Mary is contrary;
Old McDonald can spell;
Mother Hubbard's dog going boneless;
Polly making tea;
The wheels on the bus going round... and round;
The kittens finding their mittens, and hence, getting their pie.
Yes, that girl will fall in love with me;
I will read all the rhymes and stories
To her I read to her mother,
And she was once a little girl,
And she loves me.
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 9:17 AM UTC
Some say the end is near.
Some say we'll see Armageddon soon.
I certainly hope we will.
I sure could use a vacation from this
******** three ring circus sideshow of freaks
Here in this hopeless ******* hole we call L.A.
The only way to fix it is to flush it all away.
Any ******* time. Any ******* day.
Learn to swim, I'll see you down in Arizona Bay.
Fret for your figure and
Fret for your latte and
Fret for your lawsuit and
Fret for your hairpiece and
Fret for your Prozac and
Fret for your pilot and
Fret for your contract and
Fret for your car.
It's a ******** three ring circus sideshow of freaks
Here in this hopeless ******* hole we call L.A.
The only way to fix it is to flush it all away.
Any ******* time. Any ******* day.
Learn to swim, I'll see you down in Arizona Bay.
Some say a comet will fall from the sky.
Followed by meteor showers and tidal waves.
Followed by fault lines that cannot sit still.
Followed by millions of dumbfounded dip *****
Some say the end is near.
Some say we'll see Armageddon soon.
I certainly hope we will cause
I sure could use a vacation from this
Stupid **** silly **** stupid ****
One great big festering neon distraction,
I've a suggestion to keep you all occupied.
Mom's gonna fix it all soon.
Mom's comin' round to put it back the way it ought to be.
**** L Ron Hubbard and
**** all his clones.
**** all these gun-toting
Hip gangster wannabes.
**** retro anything.
**** your tattoos.
**** all you junkies and
**** your short memory.
**** smiley glad-hands
With hidden agendas.
**** these dysfunctional,
Insecure actresses.
Cause I'm praying for rain
And I'm praying for tidal waves
I wanna see the ground give way.
I wanna watch it all go down.
Mom, please flush it all away.
I wanna see it go right in and down.
I wanna watch it go right in.
Watch you flush it all away.
Time to bring it down again.
Don't just call me pessimist.
Try and read between the lines.
I can't imagine why you wouldn't
Welcome any change, my friend.
I wanna see it all come down.
Bring it down
**** it down.
Flush it down.
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 6:29 PM UTC