All these distractions in my interior actions
Leavening me in fractions over my factions.
Wondering and lost about my ulterior cost
where was it tossed? who had it bossed?
What was the message in the dark passage
of fate? Are we late? can we relate? or Update?
can it designate? well isn't this just too great?
So fill the world with hate, and let it gravitate
within a figure eight, and just call it fate.
Sell the soul for the loss of control
to fill the hole, and pack a bowel.
Go hide under the stars, in your fast cars
and bars filled with movie stars.
Lie about your life to get her as your wife
with a tongue like a knife, all filled with strife
Speed away home to not feel so alone
with her on the phone trying to condone
this action you started, leaving away broken hearted
since you two parted, hence you brain farted.
Come back to town and drag your name around
and end up underground in the land of profound.
Speed away to some other day, where the lovers
still play, with nothing new to say, but good day.

01/12/2002

Posted on 01/12/2002
Copyright © 2025 Aaron Howard