Sidenote: Yeah, there’s a lot of bad language. I debated replacing itreplaced some of it, but the anger of the piece will get lost if I go any further.Those of you who know me know what I mean.

I want to shake this mortal coil.
Everything that I feel and hold in this place hurts me.
I’m over it.
I got no one to talk to who understands what I have to say.
This place my head stands isn’t pretty.
None of you can help.

I scream my lungs out without saying a word any motherfucker can hear.
I’m so sick of being misunderstood,
misplaced,
underestimated,
hiding behind the laughs I bring to everyone.
I stay up all night, running from the morning that approaches, so rapid and so scary.
Another God damned day,
another sunrise and sunset that smile on everyone,
another stupid joke that I crack,
another one of your laughs that hide me from myself.

I’m done.

Fuck a dollar and a dream.

I’m not going to sit in this fucking cubicle that our place has created, letting this fluorescent light rot my soul.
I’m sending my soul somewhere else.

I’m gonna yell LIFE from the Mother Fucking mountaintop.
I’m gonna stand in another universe,
and bask in the sunlight that this world refuses to afford me.
I’m the fucking major chord that Rock won’t afford you.

I’m that warm breath that you gasp for every Fucking Day.

I’m gonna be that little rush of adrenaline that harmonics rattle in your ear.
I’m gonna take a guitar,
I’m gonna take a drum,
and I’m gonna strum a string on a bass and wake Man the Fuck up.

I’m gonna stand in that perfect chord,
that perfect drum riff,
that bass progression that
pulls your ribs out your muthafuckin’ chest.

I wanna be that bass beat comin’ out the fucking PA that
pulls the asses off their chairs and makes the heels hit the dance floor.

I’m gonna suck the air right out of your lungs, and shove that air right back in the blue blood of music.

I want to be that long-haired drunk, I want to be that baggy-pant kandy chick, I want to be that little redneck girl…

Stand amongst the heart of your music, sit down in the warm breadth of the beat, and cry out for the feeling you gone done forgot, ’cause it’s a beat that weeps for something we’ve already forgotten to lose.