dina föräldrars tom

bristen på dina fingrar
har dödat min kropp
vi begravde mig i vansätter
på dina föräldrars tomt

uppdatering

She got a pink shirt on
the print says she's hot
she tells me I'm not
but I'm not the one
with the fingers down my throat
and unlike you
I can run in these shoes
these steel-toed boots
will walk all over you
so don't look at me
like I tipped the doorman to get in
you can swirl that guy
around your finger
for the bottle of champange
you're drinking with your friends
I'm pulling back my fifth beer
and I've got the money
to pay for myself, honey
I've paid my dues
and now it's someone elses turn
this witch won't burn

passing by my old school
makes me feel old
we were the children of the revolution
buying youth coulture
on glossy magazine covers
we shaped our misfit-selves
to pass the test
how to be revolutionary
too young to be contemporary
we couldn't wait to leave home
looking for a group of our own
trying to make it into the scene
trying to join the scheme
where are you now?
I don't know how but we
made it out alright









later that day:
1.
he had a never ending supply
of new dirty jokes
you could know him a life time
and never hear him tell the same joke twice
he could drink a bottle of whiskey
and barely even slur
he lived in a house off the main road
they turned of the electricity
so he kept to the living room
he wrote a suicide note
on the back of a lottery ticket
I hope you win,
I'm crossing my fingers
how come we never knew
where he learned to tie a noose


2.
he liked to tell dirty jokes
kept a snare in his backyard
he could drink a bottle of whiskey
and barely even slur

she dressed like a humble bee
cause she liked the way they fly
you could touch your thumb with your forefinger
around her anorexic arm

my sister came home
to find me on the bed
next to empty bottles
of anti-depressants and sleeping pills

where's the womb
where such desperation arose
where's the seed
of so much pain and so little hope

the best of you

why would I give you the best of me
you can have the rest of me
the best is for the people I don't know

the coolest clothes
and the funniest jokes
the sweetest smile
and the clever monolouges
I save it for the poeple I don't know

I don't want the best of you
just give me what's left of you
when you're through with people you don't know

I'm to beat to go out
I'm staying home tonight
but this home is no home
and its eating up my brains
in the emptiness that follows
too many thoughts remain
the darkness can be blinding
in the brightest sun
too many scars reminding
of the times I've come undone

someone is in the stereo
singing songs of love and hate
something's crawling in my brain
killing of both trust and faith

I sit here with the records
and the music someone else wrote
my mouth is forming the words
I know will come up next
a song with no sound
like a stray in the dog-pound
I'm waiting to be put down

I'm just staying home tonight..

I don't think you're cool enough
but I will hang out with you if you speak in rhymes

been living of caffeine and nicotine
struggling to decide
should I imitate art
or should I imitate life
trying hard to socializa
but people are just apes
in drag disguise