Dying with Decent Music

[Entry number five, you now are free]

Well maybe better you than me
You're much weaker, you're more clumsy
When I forfeit my patience to you
So maybe you've had too much wine
Piggy's flushed up, ankles swell up as my lady works the room

"When sideburns always smell like sex"
Little sister, your big brother, "the fuck," won't be smothering you
Or calling to his friends back east
"Oh my hostess, oh my pick up, oh my dreadful… my white slave"
Let them die while some decent music plays

When the shit shoe stumble, that's me, dirty nails and awful thoughts
I'll use the words used up on commercials
Like such sharp boys like to write songs, music, and quick lines
This feeling, I can't confine that to a rhyme
But maybe I can if I see you on the other side

See you on the other side where we would be released
I'd sell out everything if I could find such peace
See you on the other side where we would be released
I'd sell out everyone if I could find such peace
I will be free

I will be free
I will be free
I will be free
I will be free

What is born will die
What has been gathered will be dispersed
What has been accumulated will be exhausted
What has been built up will collapse
And what has been high will be brought low

[Final entry, see you soon]