one down, two to go
Can I graduate
Can I graduate
Can I look into the faces that I meet
Can I get my punk-ass off the street
I've been living on for so long
nausea.
no clean clothes.
thank God there's stil clean underwear.
living from laptop to bed to meal to laptop.
notes tile the floor and scribbling gone awry.
Can I graduate
To the bastard talking down to me
Your whipping boy calamity
Cross your fingers
I'm going to knock it all down
and there's a fresh supply of coffee, Crunchy nut, cheese and Crustkits to fuel my flabby, unhealthy, lacklustre body that's probably churning with toxins as i type.
Essays. no use hatin them so you just gotta kill yourself doing them, and smile while you're at it.
Can I graduate
Can I look into the faces that I meet
Can I get my punk-ass off the street
I've been living on for so long
nausea.
no clean clothes.
thank God there's stil clean underwear.
living from laptop to bed to meal to laptop.
notes tile the floor and scribbling gone awry.
Can I graduate
To the bastard talking down to me
Your whipping boy calamity
Cross your fingers
I'm going to knock it all down
and there's a fresh supply of coffee, Crunchy nut, cheese and Crustkits to fuel my flabby, unhealthy, lacklustre body that's probably churning with toxins as i type.
Essays. no use hatin them so you just gotta kill yourself doing them, and smile while you're at it.
posted by The Queen of Suds at 6:16 pm
3 Comments:
go to sleep sylvy..
what kind of poem was that?
Hai yo!
it is not late-night gibberish, its lyrics from Third Eye Blind's 'Graduate'lar. But yes, the words were invoked because of the overwhelming anguish one gets from burying herself in the 'darkest cavern retreat'.:P
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