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Robert J Howard Nov 2016
Heavy on the insults
Heavy on the salt
Rubbed into the wound
Never your fault.

Speak before you think
Never bite your tongue
Just another liability
Waiting to be hung.

Time for you to shut
Your wide open mouth
You deserve the worst
And the Devil will take you south.
Robert J Howard Nov 2016
Oh Boy, I'm sick
Just a redneck hick
Be dead or be quick
Give me something I can lick.

How did we get here
Just another year
Killing it with beer
Living in false fear.

Wasting all your time
Should be a crime
Everyone lies and says they're fine
Just give me one more dime.

I'm not sure how
I'm feeling right now
There will never be a 'Wow'
When you hail from Slough.
Robert J Howard Oct 2016
Full of black,
Empty of soul.

High on lies,
Low on truth.

Crown of roses,
Bunch of thorns.

Tired by life,
Driven by death.

Burn with love,
Calm with hate.

Can't you see?
The evil in me.
Robert J Howard Oct 2016
Bag of blood,
Hanging on the line,
Swelling with pride,
Waiting to die.

Bag of blood,
Blowing in the wind,
Full of smoke, coffee and wine,
What if six were nine.

Bag of blood,
Swinging from the gallow,
Ripe for the picking,
His clock has been ticking.

Bag of blood,
Ruby in the moonlight,
Waiting to drop,
You're just the latest crop.
Robert J Howard Oct 2016
Sunday night,

Light fading,

Minutes ticking,

Face unshaven.


Candle burning,

Television killing,

Coffee waking,

Canvas awaiting.


Van Sant inspiring,

Head running,

Monday rising,

Must lay some paint down.
Robert J Howard Oct 2016
Think I'll trade my old guitar in for a gun,
I'll just pull that trigger instead of strum,
Should be a whole lot easier to play,
And then finally I might get to have my say.

Think I'll trade my old guitar in for a gun,
The crowd will move and then they'll run,
Bullets for notes and screams for cheers - what a joy,
Get a load of my new shiny musical toy.

Think I'll trade my old guitar in for a gun,
Your ears will be ringing when I'm done,
I'll point that thing coldly at your head,
Cheer quietly as you're going to be dead.

Think I'll trade my old guitar in for a gun,
Then I might start to have some fun,
I'll play it loud and turn it up to eleven,
I'll send you all on your way to Heaven.

— The End —