Adios
Not that happy,
Not that sad,
About it all,
I'm not mad.
Kind of down,
Sort of high,
Real damn tired,
I won't lie.
Brain's on low,
Mind's not on,
Moving pretty slow,
Words seem wrong,
Actions speak,
Mouths run free,
Where'd I go,
Where'd I go.
Lethargic catharsis,
Orgasmic siriasis,
Tasteless oasis,
Uncontrollable stasis,
Welcome virus,
Adios.
Adios, I go,
I go, Adios,
Find me, Find me,
Adios.
Not that happy,
Not that sad,
About it all,
Not that mad.
Sick, sick, sick,
So very uninspired,
Way too damn tired.
Am I still typing this?
Am I?
Am I...
Er...
No?
-
I'm not gonna break under the pressure,
You think in terms of such inanimate leisure,
Sifting through the sand searching lazily for the treasure,
What you want is so far beyond measure,
So far underneath the latest greatest blister,
"Listen, mister, I don't ask you what to say
so you don't ask me what to do, you."
Waiting for the hammer to drop for so very, very long,
Waiting for the downbeat of the first movement of our song,
Making time after every contrived rhyme has left you without a damn dime,
"Never said I wanted to do it for a livin', hon."
Your trail is easy to find in the dust,
I'll pick up after you only if I must,
You don't seem to be trying very hard to trust,
Fortunately, I'm not a man driven by his lust,
I'm not fool enough to dance in the rain until I rust,
"Every cent to the dollar and every dollar to the grind, baby."
Kindly move out of my light.
-
Only way to know is to try it on for size,
World might change colour through another person's eyes,
Don't fear the results if you can't break the mold,
The impending loneliness may be much more cold,
Don't be lulled into a pit of despair by routine,
It may be worse, it may be the latest forensic scene,
It may be a catastrophe, but trust me, trust me,
Trust me when I say it ain't all bad,
There are reasons out there to be glad,
Not everything is about the dark and black,
Half the fight of life is finding your way past the tears,
Forget all the faces of the monsters who choose to leer,
It'll be their own Hell when they find themselves down low,
It may be a number of years that pass slow,
It may be a day or two that fly by without warning,
But it's all moot in the event of the turning,
Wake up, sweet thang, wake up.
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