Posted by nrm on 12/7/2006, 9:46 am, in reply to "Re: drink # 2"
74.192.29.139
Bring in the clowns from loveturds of demolition
So I can sit in my own froth chimed early morning drunk buzz
To think the bottle as a friend
To think the bottle as a medication
To think of relief to pound away on this keyboard
As if im some crowned king of gibberish non conformity
To have grandiose ideas for all future comings
To think the bottle as ones worst enemy
To think of mornings of sorrow
With tears from another black out
To pound our heads in simultaneous rhythmic tunes
& to be lost, and to be found, and to be down
And to be up, and to not know anything, and to know it all.
And to not be able to look into a mirror
Or ones fathers eyes
So we, me and you, the bottle, so we can
Always do this little dance again
Sometimes showing each other a new step
Each time waiting for a splattered result
that
Could just never be the same
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