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Please make this OK.
I always forget the stars I fear
the inner ghost was released
but I am not pleased to meet him tonight
the brief extroversion I fear

like a junkie seeking the next high
always something I find
this boredom blues I try
wooo hoooo wooooo
just as bulb in a socket

playing the part
in my end, he told me I was stronger
to overcome and belong
no life is what you say
dreams and judgment in crayon

on the wall, along with this racial graffiti
I sit, here in misery

a sailor of the sea in a ocean of glass
the filth of society front and center
the lack of dialog is battering my spirits
saute my whole with popov and cigars

I chose to take the cowards way out.
Finding the strength to overcome is failing
the only step left for my soul is death.
Loss of my colorful spectrum.

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The following comments are for "popov bladder"
by NucleusFire

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