A Ballad of Excellent Destruction
2001-06-27 07:10:55 (UTC)

is it mathmatic?

This oranges brown hurt the back side of my eyes, From this
my brain told me to wake up, I wiped the webs of crust from
my painful eyes. I need to stop drinking on the weekdays, I
walked over, turned on my comp, lit a cigarette, and turned
on my mixer, sometimes when I get lost in my music I think
about obstacles in my life, I try to flush it all away. In
beats I escape the mundane, saying to my self fuck the
bills, fuck the possessions, fuck the wager of suffocation
or freedom, freedom from the things we own that one day own
us. Fuck the altering rat race. I fear the death of
humanity from the rise of corporate America. music sets it
all free, noise never tells me what to do, im in control, I
get to judge the outcome of its emotion. I hope someone who
loved me in life plays a requiem at my funeral, setting my
final emotion. Maybe I'll get Danny elfman from oingoboingo
to compose my song, wont that be beel?
and my tombstone will read "so long suckers," im lost in
music and art, I think that's the way the world should be,
now call me a hippy but before you do remember I don't like
you, unless I want. Everybody's out for blood in this day
and age so i keep up my guard, if we could only set aside
our differences, our god(s), our taxes, houses, guns,
colors, property's, newspapers, TVs, cellphones, underwear
with some guys name on it, fashion, media, and remember who
and what we are. seems to me some one might say "shit its
not that bad," were killing our self's with ourselves. Be
you, find what your good at and set yourself free, and love
what you become. its not in drugs, or churches, sports or
caviar. Its inside you, always has always will be...

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