I need an antidote, as I float on a sea of pain, the urge comes like rain in a bottle of poison fit for a king...make my ears ring and my tongue bitter, no fitter than fatback in a time rack pulling every limb into orbit, the stars and sky, blackness in the rye...the catcher's in the light, calling me I might, when time's run out and it hurts for the greater, and it's sifted me in bits from a lover to a hater. A bullet on a dime, pushing back to the time when a step was free, no need for a key for a skeleton no matter, somehow I got fatter. I grow tired with weakness, no more derbies or preakness just hold me my friend... don't let go 'til the end.
No comments:
Post a Comment