Life Isn’t So Perfect






Life isn’t so perfect
We’ll all get bumps & bruises
Nightmares will find a way
But the path is the one she chooses
Victims are merely lame footnotes
She’s the heroine of her own script
Casting off their burdens/ flipping the bird
“Fuck off, society” she blatantly quipped








It’s not a crime to be pretty
Wearing rented dresses, searching for a breadwinner
Socialites & other plastic people
No redeeming qualities, but she wants to be thinner
Her vagina will accept almost anything
Whether it be dollars, pounds, marks or kroner
A consummate professional at all times
She expects to be well paid for every geriatric boner
You don’t look gift whores in the mouth
Searching for a sugar daddy, anyone will do
Sitting in the bullpen, hoping to get promoted
Waiting to pluck her next victim, how many already gone through
That swath leaving nothing to the imagination
Offended when the whispers mention a gold digger
Everyone can spy those silicone scars
Next time she’ll go a couple of cups bigger
Sucking more than the marrow out of life
She’s trading her youth for money & security
But once tarnished, Innocence forever besmirched
Time is constantly magnifying all your impurities
There are certain priorities in this life
A father must keep his daughters off the pole
But something much less discussed nowadays
What do you do once she grew without a soul
This scene is littered with heinous & fickle creatures
Cloaked, it slowly begins to scandalize & appall
Men with large billfolds & absolutely no shame
The current failure of society & they call it Skyfall

The Government Wants To Lock Me Up




The government wants to lock me up
For I don’t fit into their diabolic plans
Turning society into robotic morons
I just can’t continue to work for The Man

Trying to sell us artificial stimulants
Fickle airwaves with their bully pulpit bought
Falsified histories & professional victims
The system wipes us away without any thought

Pharmaceutical conglomerates tell us
Conscience is a personality disorder we can’t shake
Turning our daughters into Stepford Wives
Stealing our minds – hoping we’ll never wake

Corporations in league with the dolt on the throne
Continuously embarrassing the whole of humankind
Whose agenda has a limited number of characters
How the hell is this the best choice we could find

But I won’t succumb to any of their devices
I’ll take my liberty and the happiness I’ve pursued
Rejecting the crooks & ignoring their feigned power
Won’t find me in Nurse Rachet’s line; docile & queued

I can’t live a life that’s so blatantly false & empty
My soul is no longer pristine, but I’m an honest guy
I’m taking to the wilderness; leaving the State behind
I’m trading their promises for a more natural high


Returning To Simplicity


Returning to simplicity
Tossing out these fledgling fates
Stunted growth increasing these days
Hindered by our technological rates
I don’t want to watch my soul wilt
I want to break free & soak up the sunshine
I’m through with this culture of victims
You’ll hear the dial tone & know its mine


I Never Said I Was Good At This


I never said I was good at this
I have no fancy training or school
I just close my eyes & spill my soul
Without any regard if it will be cool
I’m a bush league hack at my best
Wandering my way through eternity
Endless reams within your dreams
But I’ll never be a victim of your modernity


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