bleh... felt like keying something... yeah... its about a guy who can't say shit for himself... but ends up making a difference in the world -edited in-

sitting on the toilet-he's joyous, the king of his words-nobody's annoying|
his life's spite is boyant, a dead-end job and no enjoyment|
a robot to employment-till one day, his therapist suggests medication|
so he starts off swallowin' and experiences head-spins|
instead of hatin' he hides his anger inside of a basement|
his only best friends are the bare walls and displacement|
its been a week now and death is what the pills are craving|
they thin his veins and make him feel the pain of hatred|
the world's reality pushes him... so he loses his patience|
fresh outta pills and light bulbs, his mind is vacant|
he grabs a gun and shakes it but the tv screen doesn't flinch|
getting mad is all he can do, so he screams "you fucking bitch!"|
the sparks fly and singe the curtins, he laughs and grins|
he leaves his apartment burning, the streets spin as people stare|
he swings the gun in the air and goes insane on 9th and philip ave.|
he kills a mother with a stroller and claims he didn't care|
.................................................. ........................................|
a few years later he doesn't work the crappy job but became a author|
the shit i just rhymed was a novel he wrote, the pills gave him the offer|
stay tuned for the next issue "cruel vicadin and the meat locker"|

yeah, it sucks, so what, i was bored