Im the product, of a lost generation.
under sedation, spun around
in a constant 360 rotation.
then thrown out into water, without a device, flotation
and somehow they expect us to swim
Dehydration. Eyes dilated, insomniac
im just lost for the moment, but they make you seem like your
an addict addicted to crack.
Held back, from full potential
naive to the world, so fucking influential
its funny, how the sequential events, get the best of you
so you wonder what a tech to your head will do, if you let loose.
not realizing that depression, is traced so far back to family roots
but your to obtuse, to realize. fine. the gun goes back in the box another day
until the next time you decide to see your own brains.
How much, stress can one attain, before pain is unbearable?
Until your leak of butane is un-repairable.
The stress of your own, is non-transferable,
Incurable, an explosion of self will ensue.
suppression until the day you finally do.
screwing a chick, doesnt even resolve the tension
Death is on your mind again. so while fucking, you pull the gun out from under the bed
aim at your head and bang. the camera focuses on the girl screaming.
your lying on the bed bleeding. you wake up from day dreaming
as your handing blood stained sheets, to the store clerk, saying, " these need dry cleaning."