A quick tap-turn on melatonine
A glimpse at your own melancholie
A glimpse at your own melancholie
A see-through of obscene variety
before you run into catastrophe
A hint of a better world out there
keep shinin´honey, you don´t wanna miss the flair
her body language made all the gentlemen stare
It´s hunting season, baby you´re on...
Giving and taking intensive care...
And everyone else just calls her names
so many "suits" spitting in her face
she never had anything else . . .
Selling and raping every bit of her own out there . . .
She cuts herself every day about a thousand times
Raises her child in a bubble, though she only cries
She washes her blood off from her face and puts on all that pretty make-up
she prays on, to make her whole again
A sniff on a few grams, a mark in her heart
religion in a powder-dose, hope lays on that white line
she must have cut herself so hard last time
she still feels it inside
her time is runnin out
and the last what she´s about
is leaving a hopeless seed in a vicious circle
that must be kept round
1 comment:
you are a poet, no doubt.
you´ve got one thing I lack... rhythm, musicality, and your poems, or should I say, lyrics make people never want to stop reading them.
on another subject ( lol) may we count with your help on yourtongue?
Hug
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