Oh, how the rain flows down the mountains of decrepit disability.
Will it wash clean the fangs of yesterday's monuments to madness?
The sword of Damocles dangles as I'm screaming in a bell jar.
The steam rises from the pot filled with the Spaghetti sauce of Love.
Have I been injected with the tainted needles of apathy?
The longing last looks from the dogs of lust keep hanging in my mind like
an old yellowed photograph of a happier time that exists in the dark
recesses of an abandoned warehouse in a black and white city that knows no
In this battle royal of vice and virtue I am a fugitive from the law
As I sit catatonic in the graveyard of broken dreams she approaches on her
She moves me with her beauty and eases my pain with her Prozac kisses.