Scaredy Crap

Sunday, October 11, 2009

Jump back, what's that rumbling sound?
You avoid an enraged colugo that's just come down
Perspiring glassy beads, your skin's goose-pimpling,
You feel a frantic fear, and you just can't stop its incessant gaveling
Instantaneously, you scamper and quicken your pace up
Could also be the Fizestra behind you, it wants to cut you up

Now, you should have fallen down and splintered a bone
You should've been writhing in pain, your shrieks would bother them none
And then it would come oh-so-close to you and smell you out
You'd know it's gonna be over, there ain't a shadow of a doubt
You grab a fallen branch, turn and swing it around right then
Of course there's nothing right there, its just the hallucinogens
You're confounded and dazed again, you're brain-fucked again

Daft doorknob, they're using you - you're just an experiment
They're killing you no more than they're feeding infants wet cement
Shut the fuck up now and get ready, there's another test
Chew up this Peruvian Torch, so what if your mouth's abscessed?
Lesions and contusions? Just this one, we'll see what they crack
And after stitching you up, you'll land slap-bang in rehab

And is there any other place you'd rather be?
Yes, the pain's there and yeah, you do bleed
But this acid trip is all you're ever going to need

It's 4:45 in the morning. And I am generally irritated. This was written in 15 minutes flat. I have scaled new heights of horrible-ness. It's quite pathetic, but let me tell you something. 50 Cent could do with a wack songwriter. He needs one.

Sigh. It has come to this.