I am angry I am ill and I’m as ugly as sin my irritability keeps me alive and kicking I know the meaning of life, it doesn’t help me a bit I know beauty and I know a good thing when I see it
This is a song from under the floorboards this is a song from where the wall is cracked my force of habit, I am an insect I have to confess I’m proud as hell of that fact
I know the highest and the best I accord them all due respect but the brightest jewel inside of me glows with pleasure at my own stupidity
This is a song ....
I used to make phantoms I could later chase images of all that could be desired then I got tired of counting all of these blessings and then I just got tired