My Passion Is An Unnatural Occurring Phenomena

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My passion is an unnatural occurring phenomena
I cannot get enough of the sweetness within you
Tell me all you ever wanted to dream of
Tell me slow, allow your words to ring true

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Wrong Way Down A Slanted Street

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Wrong way down a slanted street
Each step is a new kind of burn
Through the low, sloping trees
The Coit Tower for which I yearn
Thirty-Seven years through this life
With only a dream left to cling
Watched your best girl leave you
She wanted far more than a ring
Your Eden never bore fruit
Only possessing a barren vine
Taking off for Occidental today
Toss away this dying, rancid wine
Know there’ll be sun tomorrow
The City will only cause you to spoil
Remove yourself from endless poison
Toil in warm & encouraging soil

Pseudonyms & Plagiarisms

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Pseudonyms & plagiarisms
Rebounding from an unsound defeat
Words a quaint & salacious secret
She was never so polite or discrete
Never recovering from such a mark
Unsure of future rings & knockings
Attempts at modeling a smile
Fear from being tied in her stockings

Inverted Staircases Painted Slightly Blue

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Inverted staircases painted slightly blue

Slender secrets echo in the trapped night

Wasted words from jilted lovers ring true

Loosened spirits giving reason to finally fight

Undistilled mind-thought alive with fear

Floating away silently throughout the season

Repeated attempts to ponder why we’re here

Explain away actions until they’re treason

Pour Me Some Scotch

Pour me some scotch, I’ll tell you a story
This one full of thriving drunken louts
Seafaring strangers searching for loose women
Under these conditions, love is often on the outs
Ladies and gentlemen, please let me continue
Twas not I, for the saloon singer’s song
Melted her heart & it not my fault
You cannot blame me for his doing wrong
I too was blinded by the sparkle of the ring
I too was victim when that ship went down
Tilt your eyes back to who you know it is
In the dark corner of midnight rests the sad clown

  

Suburban queens & their diamond rings

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Suburban queens & their diamond rings

Thinking sparkling possessions are theirs

The object of so many men’s thoughts

Lustful fantasies in each of their stares

Primped, dolled & dressed to the nines

These bodies merely trophy wives to be stressed

They hold no special value for society

Beyond the contents under their dress