Dead Poets In Hell

Reach for the stars, dead poets in Hell
I stay out of bars, enclosed in a cell
The higher I flew, the deeper I fell
I smoked it all, my weed I don’t sell

Before I starve, I’ll tell you this:
Open up your mouths and drink my piss!

You think you’re a boss
But I’ll kick in your nuts
You don’t know shit
No ifs, ands or buts

You think it’s funny
When I can’t find a home
Laugh while you can
On my stompin’ grounds I still roam

And I’m gathering strength
You’ll soon see
I’m taking back what you’ve taken from me
My dignity, my dignity
You won’t see me
‘Till I jump down from the tree
And, damn straight,
Your own kids will be following me
We’ll see who gets the third degree

That’s it now
Your last hope is lost
Count your dollars finks
Then count the cost

You folks just can’t be trusted
No, fuck this, fuck that
You’re busted

My advice to all those who rebel
Stand together and stay strong as Hell
And don’t buy what the Big Merchants sell


2 thoughts on “Dead Poets In Hell

  1. Hey there Casino, I had used this blog as a kind of “box” to store some work on after a message board I was running mysteriously vanished into thin air. I created another one just for documenting dialogue between myself and a couple other people, mainly with a thinker who calls himself Holden.

    Blogs are not so great for dialog. Feel free to register or just browse – Meanwhile, if I ever get around writing down the crazy shit that goes on in my mind or that comes out of my mouth, I will try to put it in a form that will some kind of sense here.

    It all seems so pointless sometimes, you know?

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