I'm nuts

 

It’ll do no good to star screaming it out in The middle of my room

They all think I’m nuts

In that broken by life taped together to quickly fragile artistic way of life

Won’t do ‘em no good to see that in a moment of madness

Slitting weak wrist to create in warm blood

Is more an equal to the artistic soul than incense and rolled joints

So paint it out in charcoal and random pieces of songs

That fit the moment not the soul completely

It seems right to speak them in sore ramblings

Not the alternative of a prone drugged form left to crying laughing hysteria

Yeah that seems about right

 

Author's Note

Cp. 10:59PM Sun 03/09/08 NM writing to a smokers thought of dep4rive future insanity indifference. (Written, Blue.)