I could vividly recall my mood the day that art was murdered

The wind blew a thin layer of dust on my garden bird

Everything you knew was sideways and phallic

The highways traffic added to Friday's madness

The warm wrinkled skin loosely hung of earnest cheekbones

Below eyes designed to bury the wolf under a sheep's clothes

Some peoples sang, a few begged for change

A young girl skipped a long with her hand glued to a candy cane

I, however, walked with my back to it as usual

Wanted to turn this dark comedy into a musical

I'm used to reflecting the sorrow the world reflects at me

We're forever intertwined as the anxious and angry

The gloom moves into oxygen, consumed to keep me lost within

A mushroom cloud of toxins deposited to leave the prophets doomed

There I sat on a lead infested picnic table

Waiting to be born, carefully evading mating season's evil horns

I keep performing for the poets and philosophers

But they don't know I was insane before and became popular

I lose something every time I leave my house

Trying to gain something by running my mouth

My conscience don't hold a grudge against my impulse

Honesty should be the best policy but it's not that simple

Have you ever had the sky inject a cloud into your lymph nodes

So all you see is how she gazes through a frameless window?

Everyday I have a new argument with myself

Wonder how I got this far up the ladder

But by now I should have failed

Can't go to heaven, never learned how to pray

Oh well, Rather be in a place with less people anyway

Somewhere between a snare and the extra-tire hogwash