F*cked Up
Troubled?
Why yes,
I am.
The bitter taste of human evolution,
stabs me with convulsive anxiety.
The trap they set for my soul --
readied to cower like a cornered fox.
Each day is a new wound.
Each day is more of my martyred blood.
Disturbed?
Why yes,
I am.
Can't you feel it?
The silence?
The noise?
The stir in the air?
I can hear the banshee mourning for my murdered consience.
Oh Thoth,
do you have any more parlor tricks to quicken me once more?
F*cked up?
Aren't we all?
By: Roy Quebedeaux
Why yes,
I am.
The bitter taste of human evolution,
stabs me with convulsive anxiety.
The trap they set for my soul --
readied to cower like a cornered fox.
Each day is a new wound.
Each day is more of my martyred blood.
Disturbed?
Why yes,
I am.
Can't you feel it?
The silence?
The noise?
The stir in the air?
I can hear the banshee mourning for my murdered consience.
Oh Thoth,
do you have any more parlor tricks to quicken me once more?
F*cked up?
Aren't we all?
By: Roy Quebedeaux
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