It irks me to see, in a place of league,
the air-head receptionist looking brain-dead...
Messages are for banana heads
offer me nothing less than yourself...
It leaves me with a half-hearted, soft...
The echoes already starts to decay...
I see men with humiliated skirts
Tied with shoes of fever and thirst...
To find a place to lay his head, turtle crept...
His usual scuffle, to the usual spot, always...
Messenger
By Mark Spencer...
They are men, wielding great power,
consuming everything around them...
I am too trusting of this world
To you the stranger who sighs at me...
I wake up in the morning and say school is so...
I don't like to go to school, trust me it's not...
Hello, my name is Jim.
Nice to meet you...
Going through life blindfolded,
All of life has been this way...
Dress me up in all your favorite colors
Pop me full of those happy pills...