| I try to beautify and cover up this sloppy language *ba$ick 2002 Untitled I close my eyes and remember what we will soon know What we have seen together is still only the beginning of a long story I hope we can finish the book together In the Air somewhere above North Dakota Once in the air, I fly like an angel, Protecting you from our tarnished environment, Wanting to land and embrace you in my wings of love and compassion. Sundays Music cuts through the stale smoke filled air, Piercing my eardrums like a lighting bolt striking a clock tower. Boom...boom...crash!! Hypnotic spasms pound out the speakers forcing every jock to drug addict on to the dance floor. They mix together like oil and water. Yet, the beats hold them in harmony. I myself sit back at a table by the bar and watch the circus pass before me. Sitting at the table with me are my roomies Milk and Dough, the part owner of the club, a few promoters, two dealers, and three knock out ladies. Everyone has been partying since wednesday, (its now sunday) Which means no sleep, Which equals to a whole table of paranoid motherfuckers. |
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