Oh misery,
oh my,
oh my—

Why do you
follow me around?

In my soul,
in my hair,
I see you everywhere.

Each day
feels like a slog
when I know you’re around.

Oh misery,
oh my,
oh my.

A prisoner
of my own desire,

balancing
the slippery *****.

“This time I’ll be better”
I say -

Unknowing
of what lies ahead.

Weeks go by,
the urge returns.

I must do something fun,
something to numb the pain.

And now -
the snake eats its tail.

First, you draw a square,
inside it — three more.

The one at the top
serves to control.

Lead a line down,
and connect the block —

Memory matrix
is what it’s called.

Draw a line,
then add some more —
and you’re almost ready to go.

There’s one last block
that’s set to show:

Call it the decoding central,
so we know what it’s for.

Give it some lines
that lead out right —

And now we know
what’s inside RAM...
right?

A shell stands in the wind
unsure of what it is

but first
a man walks up to it

pick and ****
pick and ****

"Why are you so hollow?"

pick and ****
pick and ****

"Do you not like me?"

pick and ****
pick and ****

but, a piece of the shell
broke.

Satisfied, the man left

The broken shell stands in the wind
still unsure of what it is

A woman in the distance
walks up to the broken shell

she jabs at the pices
"Why are you so lazy?"

jab and stomp
jab and stomp

"All you do is act lazy!"

jab and stomp
jab and stomp

the pressure
breaks another piece

and satisfied
the woman leaves

the shell
hollow and empty
crumbles to dust

it gets swept off a mountain
as a powder of crust

now the shell is no more

and all that remained
was a beacon of hope

that one day
the shell
won't be empty no more

First you publish,
people clap and cheer.

"There's some skill,
and a hint of mystique."

So go ahead writer,
go sit at your desk!

Pick up that pen,
and let it dance on your page!

But as soon as you start,
there's a creeping doubt:
"Maybe..
this was my peak"

A cigarette in hand,
I sit back in my chair.

The sun pours down
like a waterfall.

A dog ahead,
Lies down on it's back -
Like a turtle on it's shell

He's laying down,
Joyous and gay,
thinking to himself:
"Gosh, what a beautiful day"

A breeze flows by
to remind us all:
that the cold days gone,
And all that remains
is the waterfall.

I recline back,
and take a long drag,
And I tell myself:
"Gosh, what a beautiful day"