I could vividly recall my mood the day that art was murdered
The wind blew a thin layer of dust on my garden bird
Everything you knew was sideways and phallic
The highways traffic added to Friday's madness
The warm wrinkled skin loosely hung of earnest cheekbones
Below eyes designed to bury the wolf under a sheep's clothes
Some peoples sang, a few begged for change
A young girl skipped a long with her hand glued to a candy cane
I, however, walked with my back to it as usual
Wanted to turn this dark comedy into a musical
I'm used to reflecting the sorrow the world reflects at me
We're forever intertwined as the anxious and angry
The gloom moves into oxygen, consumed to keep me lost within
A mushroom cloud of toxins deposited to leave the prophets doomed
There I sat on a lead infested picnic table
Waiting to be born, carefully evading mating season's evil horns
I keep performing for the poets and philosophers
But they don't know I was insane before and became popular
I lose something every time I leave my house
Trying to gain something by running my mouth
My conscience don't hold a grudge against my impulse
Honesty should be the best policy but it's not that simple
Have you ever had the sky inject a cloud into your lymph nodes
So all you see is how she gazes through a frameless window?
Everyday I have a new argument with myself
Wonder how I got this far up the ladder
But by now I should have failed
Can't go to heaven, never learned how to pray
Oh well, Rather be in a place with less people anyway
Somewhere between a snare and the extra-tire hogwash
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