(no subject)
apparently someone said i should update about my sexiness.
i'd like to remind all of you that i don't have imaginary friends. yes i am pathetic.
no i do not have imaginary friends.
well, since i'm updating, here's another something for you :
I,
an alibi, an
other way to justify,
why i even try, but
hey, enjoying this skin
is a sin, you know, all this
thinking is a bastion of aspirin
but it takes a brain to attain this
ineffable mind-fucking pain that makes
the red-water in my vein profane this migraine
but if it hurts not it'll soften the coffin so
when i become a live-in it'll deaden the burden my
spine will find that "apocalypse isn't so bad after all,"
you know, there may be a meaning in the words i scrawl, beyond
the rhyme and the time, the ebb and go of the flow but really,
I have nothing to show, just a silly poem on the back of a sillier
piece of paper and I, the raper, with a pencil i found on the merry-
go-round of earth, the ground, high school battleground ruled by mr.
Alfucking Mighty Bellsound in a kind of frantic, slightly romantic, sort of used
and mostly confused head of "my name is Johnny Jazz, whereas most people call me
Strait Jacket because I make quite a racket 'Hey little girl it makes me irate to see you gyrate
isn't it ironic because I thought us platonic and I don't think that involves how your hip revolves
in fact, isn't it time's job to make us evolve?!'" this sensation of inspiration, oh, I'm sorry, did I go
off because I meant to go on, so have you seen how America has undergone this change to a neon echelon
but I've heard my news is old, or so I am told "What is this love, I wanted gold!" and that little argument of
log base x is equal to "why do I have my brain to fry for this fucking number?' any one of this phenomenon of trying to make an
other outdone "well, isn't this fun?" welcome to silicon oblivion where the sun is set to stun and the life of a single philosopher
mind-gunner, a word connoiseur who might prefer to be called sir but I am a dreamer, so unclear they call me fear, a trainwreck
engineer, anthill mountaineer regarded only slightly queer, and some may find joy in a sneer or a jeer but i'm a brain for hire, second
hand liar, maybe when you stick your hand in for the berry I'm the briar in the bush's livewire, I am Mouse Much
More Slyer, I told him to call me Comatose Butterfly with thoughts to horrify that which you deify "I dedicate this
lullaby to simplify the sky, to the coffeehouse demagogue who treats Almighty Newswire as a synagogue, maybe trying to loosen
a cog in the system," No, this one's for You, so I'll try to sing it true for of you I am fond beyond the bonds of fish in pond
oh, how is it to love a fool too self-absorbed in his cool game of Follow the Deciever, a glowing, flowing banner that's growing too fast
and going too slow to meet status quo but maybe we can fix the mix with some semiautomatics and a crucifix but until I see
your sun again, Farewell and feelings from which I am reeling, but until then you'll know where I'll be, no this is no suicide note nor
anecdote I think it's a little sketch of my mind "Ha, what a wretch" but who knows? mayve i'll help you etch some of our names into
concrete so that we'll be a part of the earthbeat, I miss you and it's bittersweet and I can't keep it discrete
oh man, love is so obsolete, We'll call this the Song of Blight and Wrong and I'll keep it going by starlight or bust
and I'll be the ambassador, forevermore, now my thought may be a little unorthodox and we'll get through this together
ok, you and me as a perpetual we how would that be in my solitary fantasy and we'll forget the blasphemy
and the factory of royalty oh how our lifeblood is watery ever so silvery I hope you trust me
and we'll see, forever in unity but then again, who am I kidding? we're only human, only flesh
and blood with heads full of mud, maybe some weights of lead, who knows, i'm already dead
check that out afterward.
today i have my lesson. which means another 20$ =BBB so I'm not so poor and I should stop bumming money off of people. but if they're willing to pay i'm not going to stop them. ok, so I have to finish my presentation on harriet tubman, due yesterday, so I'll edit this later with some more love, kids.
i'd like to remind all of you that i don't have imaginary friends. yes i am pathetic.
no i do not have imaginary friends.
well, since i'm updating, here's another something for you :
I,
an alibi, an
other way to justify,
why i even try, but
hey, enjoying this skin
is a sin, you know, all this
thinking is a bastion of aspirin
but it takes a brain to attain this
ineffable mind-fucking pain that makes
the red-water in my vein profane this migraine
but if it hurts not it'll soften the coffin so
when i become a live-in it'll deaden the burden my
spine will find that "apocalypse isn't so bad after all,"
you know, there may be a meaning in the words i scrawl, beyond
the rhyme and the time, the ebb and go of the flow but really,
I have nothing to show, just a silly poem on the back of a sillier
piece of paper and I, the raper, with a pencil i found on the merry-
go-round of earth, the ground, high school battleground ruled by mr.
Alfucking Mighty Bellsound in a kind of frantic, slightly romantic, sort of used
and mostly confused head of "my name is Johnny Jazz, whereas most people call me
Strait Jacket because I make quite a racket 'Hey little girl it makes me irate to see you gyrate
isn't it ironic because I thought us platonic and I don't think that involves how your hip revolves
in fact, isn't it time's job to make us evolve?!'" this sensation of inspiration, oh, I'm sorry, did I go
off because I meant to go on, so have you seen how America has undergone this change to a neon echelon
but I've heard my news is old, or so I am told "What is this love, I wanted gold!" and that little argument of
log base x is equal to "why do I have my brain to fry for this fucking number?' any one of this phenomenon of trying to make an
other outdone "well, isn't this fun?" welcome to silicon oblivion where the sun is set to stun and the life of a single philosopher
mind-gunner, a word connoiseur who might prefer to be called sir but I am a dreamer, so unclear they call me fear, a trainwreck
engineer, anthill mountaineer regarded only slightly queer, and some may find joy in a sneer or a jeer but i'm a brain for hire, second
hand liar, maybe when you stick your hand in for the berry I'm the briar in the bush's livewire, I am Mouse Much
More Slyer, I told him to call me Comatose Butterfly with thoughts to horrify that which you deify "I dedicate this
lullaby to simplify the sky, to the coffeehouse demagogue who treats Almighty Newswire as a synagogue, maybe trying to loosen
a cog in the system," No, this one's for You, so I'll try to sing it true for of you I am fond beyond the bonds of fish in pond
oh, how is it to love a fool too self-absorbed in his cool game of Follow the Deciever, a glowing, flowing banner that's growing too fast
and going too slow to meet status quo but maybe we can fix the mix with some semiautomatics and a crucifix but until I see
your sun again, Farewell and feelings from which I am reeling, but until then you'll know where I'll be, no this is no suicide note nor
anecdote I think it's a little sketch of my mind "Ha, what a wretch" but who knows? mayve i'll help you etch some of our names into
concrete so that we'll be a part of the earthbeat, I miss you and it's bittersweet and I can't keep it discrete
oh man, love is so obsolete, We'll call this the Song of Blight and Wrong and I'll keep it going by starlight or bust
and I'll be the ambassador, forevermore, now my thought may be a little unorthodox and we'll get through this together
ok, you and me as a perpetual we how would that be in my solitary fantasy and we'll forget the blasphemy
and the factory of royalty oh how our lifeblood is watery ever so silvery I hope you trust me
and we'll see, forever in unity but then again, who am I kidding? we're only human, only flesh
and blood with heads full of mud, maybe some weights of lead, who knows, i'm already dead
check that out afterward.
today i have my lesson. which means another 20$ =BBB so I'm not so poor and I should stop bumming money off of people. but if they're willing to pay i'm not going to stop them. ok, so I have to finish my presentation on harriet tubman, due yesterday, so I'll edit this later with some more love, kids.