Cock Suckers Are The Norm
Who wants a thing shoved in their ass?
Who wouldn’t vote saying I will pass?
Maybe that dude wearing fuck you mask.
That dude flunked outa school.
Buddy, that dude’s a fool.
Won’t change his fashion.
Likely to lash on
Silly motherfuckers who ask him.
Where are you from, dude?
Does that allude to
He’s from nowhere.
Don’t you ever dare.
Ask him a question.
Just one lesson.
Shit doesn’t stay just here.
We know dimensions.
That’s where our friends from.
Better look sideways.
That’s where they play.
Lateral pathway halls.
God, I Love You!
Believers, you are.
And that goes so very far,
To begin that far, far, far… away?
Trek to the motherland.
See if you really can,
Care for another.
Sister and brother.
You are, an also can,
Maybe, just maybe, then…
They do this good thing.
That thing will bring
Closure and holy, sure
Another tomorrow but,
Those with so sorry full,
Feel up the market to
We can not parkit.
Good place to lark it.
Negative feelings with
No in-between-atins
And will we all just float away?
Mister De-escalator
You have a way of screwing things up.
You are a bettor out of luck.
You wear boots filled with muck.
You are the muck that fills them…
You are the man who needs shit done.
You think you are the chosen one.
You shoot blanks from a big ass gun.
You are a joke not funny.
You seek only money.
You live in scarcity, where should he?
Grift another hundred?
See that bed?
You will have to sleep in it!
When The Past Comes Back To Hint You
Buddy! He said.
I remember you.
You were the guy whom did not screw
Me, as a customer,
So long ago.
And me? I remember, Buddy so…
Take back the past.
Haven’t you asked?
Why do I do it?
Why does it do me?
And why can’t so many doers
Wake up themselves and see.
Look where we are headed!
Cliffs are right ahead!
Run like this on the straight and narrow.
Buddy could wind up dead.
Please Bitch, Please!
You’ve got no right
Just out of spite
To say I am no fixer.
I work these hands ’til blister.
My friends, they call me mister.
But you misread me.
Bitch, belead me…
This shit here don’t fly.
You are not my guy.
We ain’t buds and just because
You wear a ring I gave you.
Permits you not to shoo
Shoo me from my comfort zone.
You’re at home.
You got dawgs who love you!
Me? I’m out here, who you?
Buddy?
Ya you…what you want?
They all flaunt
Their power over me.
I can’t be
A salesman unless they want me to be…
On The Tracks Of A Train Called “You R Fucked”
It was hard, so hard…
And it was all uphill.
Never any grub to eat
They just brought the bill.
Complain? What’s that?
And how you go about it?
Quietly, or is it shouted?
And wouldn’t we surely be outed?
As them who cannot stand alone?
Will not make it on our own?
Won’t they throw a dawg a bone?
No. They won’t.
Cause these folks don’t
Don’t believe in sharing.
To them, that would be daring
Happenstance to strike them down.
Put them on their knees.
Then they would be as big as you.
They might be forced to please
A master now beyond themselves.
Then they, like you, would think, oh well…
That’s just the way the cookie crumbles
Life’s a trip so full of stumbles
Fall now with your hands out.
Save yourself.
Don’t ask for help.
Time to tighten up your belt.
Hoist those bootstraps!
Give ’em hell!
Now, you might just make it.
Name Your Name
This little bastard loved himself.
Loved himself!
Loved himself!
Act like a giant and an elf.
He felt swell.
Happy as hell!
That little bastard, he did well.
He could sell.
He knew himself and he knew damn well.
He was a good guy.
Won on his first try.
Winner call ‘im, no lie.
Buddy was riding that train.
Making that ride, tickets inside,
Riders want to ride again!
Buddy, he has to refrain,
From shouting out loud
JESUS CHRIST, IT’S ALLOWED!
We can make us King for a day!
All Plans Are Made Of Shit
Something stinks about a calendar.
Like the numbers don’t add up.
The days don’t rhyme
The months don’t match
People have had enough.
We oughta go back
To writing on sand.
That’s where our plans work out.
And if they don’t
Nobody knows.
Nothing to scream or shout.
Just takin’ each day as each day comes.
No one needs to lose their cool.
Them who are angry bout this or that
Let ’em spout like that fool.
The fool who believes
That shit works out
It does, but thanks to no plan.
Cause when it works out
Just as imagined
Only one guy got a plan.
Think Of Me Little, Not Little Me.
Where Earth bleeds, man’s needs
Are met with great abundance.
Do the fun dance!
Maybe Sun dance.
See you now prance
Like you know somethin’
Or you bin humpin’
Rocks all day
Just to say
See that pile?
My oh my oh!
I moved that to day!
I piled rocks, okay?!
No one gonna sway
How I feel
About this deal.
Let them squeal
On the in-side
I decide
My contenders.
The Fourty Year Head Shot
Kenedy, they killed in a damn parade.
Splattered Jack’s brain with a Don’t! so engraved.
Everyone knew that no one was afraid.
They will knock your block off.
Flight 800 with rockets!
FBI no talk offs.
Shit will hit no fan.
You will burn not tan.
Honesty has no policy.
It will not be paid.
Honesty as a policy?
Po-little-co to grave.
You want a headstone?
Shot at the big throne?
You gotta suck some cock!
Buddy, this ain’t no walk
On your kinda cake.
The path you take
Goes a way, way, waay… ’round here.
The War On Screens And Dial Tones
He was screwed, you might say
And yes, just today
He was hooped way more than was normal.
There were hints though they seemed so informal.
Nobody said we will all wind up dead.
They were safe in their heads
Without any dread
So what lay ahead
Had no bearing.
They were wearing
Their hearts on their sleeves
Still, no sign of reprieve
From the thunder of wonder
Where did we come from?
What has been undone?
And why can’t we see to tomorrow?
Life Sucks On Suckers
Who does well?
The rich!
Who thinks life’s a bitch?
You twitch.
You twitch because you know
That life is gonna flow
Like a bed and you’re the river.
So giddy-up and give ‘er!
Paddle like a crazy man
Up your creek of shit.
Turn up your nose at malodor
That smell that doesn’t fit
With Made In Heaven
Shit you’re living
Sense has left your town.
Now you drift around.
Never you depth sound.
Deep six and you’re mark twain.
The Lord Can’t Help
There’s a line you must not cross.
Avoid at any cost
Crossing that line, thinking I’ll be fine.
You won’t, and you’ll be lost.
That wolf right there.
Smiling in that chair.
I say don’t dare
Run with him.
He’s a sinner, boy
And he takes great joy
Hearing little girl screams
When the screaming seems
To be streaming from a big boy’s mouth.
How’s that sound come out?
That wolf, he is so curious.
Your Best Parasites
They’re not going to kill you.
Not gonna drink your blood.
Gonna tickle you with kindness.
Hit you with a flood
Of shit so good, you’ll shit your pants.
That’s when they send the shit eaters.
And You can’t do that! neithers.
They’ll stop you in your tracks boy.
They’ll say them tracks ain’t yours.
Read to you from The Riot Act
Get you on all fours.
Then the cud suckers will kick your ass.
They don’t take no names.
Sucker punch your liver spots.
Suckers playing games.
They just suck, boy.
Boy, they suck an you know what?
They can’t didge or dodge.
Up only, because
Shit only flows downhill, boy.