call it hopelessness.
or an overwhelming desire to dance
I used to own the sky,but those nights are no longer mine
as the sun rises,the sweat on my skin dries
the wild ride continues into the spiked drinks
those long conversations about life.
I miss being so afraid of time
Nothing left to loose,
no close family,
no woman to call my own
just the long days spent with a bottle by my side
a desire for a bed to climb in
but who am I?
better than my forefathers in the amount of material items
with less of a knack for survival.
If it was up to me,id spend the rest of my days on an island
fishing and cultivating
painting pictures in the sand only to have my canvass wiped clean by the tide
I see the scam in your eyes,life.
work for flat screen tvs and lambourginis
advance yourself by breaking necks
sleep soundly with a baretta under your head.
my third eye...is wild...and open
to the sights of the changing of horizons