To gypsy jazz I go to play
And then to fucking dance
And if there is a price to pay
In body take the chance.
Our lives must always go apace.
Else living starts to die
For living's an eternal race
Or living is a lie.
Oh god... there's nausea... Everything is blinking... a stomach migrane...
To home I go and brave the drive
hot blanket on my back....
for... a...
Oh god that probiotic has trace amounts of wheat.
Fuck rhyming. Fuck meter.
Life is prose.
No comments:
Post a Comment