Loss
The ghost of you keeps drawing me like a severed limbStumbling when stepping down on what I could dependSevered ties like ragged
Rambling
V8 Juiced
2 rows of four make 8burning dinosaurs past the throttle platesweating on dead cattle, hit the clutch, grab the shiftera smooth left
Fire
And I ask myself, did I fall from grace?And I look around meand I realizeThere is none to be had here.I must
Fertile Mind
If you were to ask about the shits I giveThere wouldn’t be enough for a fly to liveNot a molecule of the
Nom
The gingerbread man lost his arm in nomNow he’s on line fucking everybody’s mom You can’t spell Boomer without “Me”And environmental catastropheSqueezed