Razor Blades, Blisters and Time

This is a video i made from the band’s old recording of “Cash” we weren’t together long enough to actually make a real video,but i am sure the band would like this version!

 What will they say of me after i die..

Will i be remembered
thought of fondly
or simple be forgotten
Will anyone shed a tear at my passing
or rejoice that i am now gone

What will be seen as my mark upon this earth
I haven’t done much for anyone
except myself
i live alone in my dark world
i used to live to drink and smoke
lie and steal

now i replace my real longings with work
grinding away at my laptop
all night
most of the day time hours too
Most of my bills are paid
and i am never hungry

for food

i try to live an upright honest life
but i still gain personal pleasure
lusting after women
high powered fancy ideas of wealth and fame

i am a fucking cheap-skate
but somehow find ways to waste money

What will they say of me after i die..

Will anything that i have done in my chaotic life
have positive impact on another
will any of the women i have known and loved
remember me and long for my embrace
or will only my ugliness be recounted and cursed

What will they say of me after i die..

will my dead body rot away into dust and obscurity
in some anonymous grave
or will at least one person miss me
and remember at least one of my few good deeds
or will my lonely existence be extended into death

alone

unloved

unwanted

forgotten

Technorati Tags:murmurs from the grave, lost and unloved, the megaphone of destiny, dancing by myself, lost in Hollywood, cradle of death, a night of sad countenance, wishing i could turn back time

 Does it matter that I know

very little of life, love or personal contact,

pop open another one to cure the

desolate coldness that burns through

my being.

I laugh in the face of your world,

your ideas

your rules

those concepts that drive the normal ones

like social cattle off to the slaughter.

Killed by perception

by regulation of acceptance

by the dreams of the masses

kill

kill

or be killed

death and dying

or drop out of the cycle of commercial wisdom.

I take a side trip behind the liquor store

to down my last short dog.

3 A.M. I walk over the Clara street bridge..

to my imagined destiny

to the distorted contrived dream that burned in side of me

I called her name and she beckoned me further..

further

onward to the alley

sweet words kiss my brain

the promise of it all

to the back street covered in darkness i creep

she whispers and coos to me

I knock on the steel door and no one answers

I hear them in side

I pound harder..

Soon the cops arrive and take me to jail.

take your fucking shoes off the tall one barks at me,

I sneer at him as if i held the key to the secret conspiracy

4 hours later i am standing in front of the Police station

no smokes

no money

caked in jail dirt

the sour stench of wine and speed seep out of my pores

i slowly wander down the street

off to just south of nowhere

but isn’t nowhere actually somewhere after all????????

Technorati Tags:genie in a paper sack, just south of nowhere, the art of loneliness, shining in darkness, the little voice deep in side of me