dreams get crushed like trash compactors
then it's back to paying taxes
from the same mattress, same address
all year round same point on the atlas
i keep drawing on a black hole canvas
color squeezed out, back down to kansas
it's not quite home, but all roads have to
lead to somewhere, right? just not tonight
god this room reeks of gitmo
bread and cheddar poems hint at stockholm syndrome
scrawled sheets hammered out like ball peens turn to
piling trash heaps filed away by alcoholic interns
wrote my story at the box office window
scratched so much, i scabbed up the skin tone
shades of pinto, blacklight, day glow
I'm bent out and snapped, spine cracked like a wishbone
and god i think i'm lost, this bed is too soft
these drugs don't make me cough, i used to write em off
now i just lie and talk, listen to others rock
microphones and dream about chipping off this writers block
i could just write a blog, i got this captains log
that i've been keeping trapped tight up in the mental fog
i feel so analog, watching the state of progress
while i'm still fucked up and half dressed
language, it's all i got left next to music and
i love em both, god I wish i wasn't so abusive
man this room reeks of alcatraz
staring down a shot glass, ricocheting through the past
I'm only sixteen, writing that first sixteen
verse astroturf green amatuer
then I'm twenty one, i got so many songs done
in a catalog i'm hiding from an editor
but now I'm twenty three, sometimes I look at me
and see a shadow of the atom that I used to be
see how it gets to me? see why I tend to see life in
jade shades and simulated extacy
thats all a part of me, you gotta pardon me
I wake up half vacent bathed in insanity
goddamn, that's unattractive,
i feel like a fraction of a man but that's subjective
same shit different day, i'm so unconnected
work so much just to keep my mind distracted
one more song to throw away into the twilight zone
highlights of a wasteland clone, erased out from the
formula of breeders and believers, celebrities
embedded with the pedigree of jesus
and so this room reeks of neither
but trust me, i'm not the keynote teacher
incense, soda cans, booze, smell is intense
dirty socks, smoke boxes, zip locks on speakers,
if this is detox beat box i'm leaving
I've danced with my demons and i'm still here breathing
staring at the ceiling, week after week after week
fuck this, i'm going back to sleep...