Shower Inspiration 16-3-02

 

The gun has been cocked and so has the virgin;

We're all silent victims of submissive subversion;

I don't know who I am, and neither do you;

but what does it matter, so long as we screw;

The song has been written, I've given my lot;

You cannot find faith, so you go smoke some pot;

I'm running out of principles, a man all alone;

What does anyone care, they just want to get stoned;

 

A boy without merit, a woman feeling no shame;

and I'm not even given the choice to pick my own name.

 

You feed me to lions, I pick my own den;

I'd rather be you then sit with this pen;

But it's not my choice, these visions I'm imbued,

Sitting to contemplate the hue you fail to see too.

 

Heaven is shamed for what I have seen;

and hell hath no face without a solemn divinity;

I fiddle with jargon and swallow some strife;

But Neitzche says that's all alright.

 

You cannot see me, what can I do;

I'm hidden away in your unconscious view.

 

I'll sit here and scribble and play with words all night;

You stay there and rest, not even in freight;

You stay there without wary, there is nothing I can do;

Sit mortal, be calm, come to find what I knew...