Burning the hours away putting my pens to papers..
while I try to pull off another one of my verbal capers..
Where I roll up the past and smoke it in the future tense..
but I guess to you, it’s only me to which it all makes sense..
Show the world a special part and get roasted alive..
Where you have no place left to even hide..
Show them what makes you special.. or even mediocre..
Burning the nights away by the light of candles and incense..
but I guess to me, its only to no one that this is going to make sense..
Speak in verbal context to the lost souls of the forgotten..
where the smiles have faded and the good intentions gone rotten..
The plots to the hours of time spent in reckless abandon..
where it all has to do with what you get your hand on..
Speak of the points you wish you make..
and don’t even try to come at it fake..

09/11/2003

Posted on 09/11/2003
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