12:50 (A stuffed Bear)

I sit, slumped
‘S’ shaped over the desk,
My hand, fumbles,
Grabs, and slides its way along,
The silky stretched neck, of
The half filled goblet,
My eyes, stray over towards, the
Emblazoned red digits of the clock,
“12:50” it reads, I sit
and sink into the tough tarnished leather,
of my favourite chair, whether
it be weariness, or illness: I’m
under the weather.
I lift my heavy head, with
The emotion of a blank canvas,
The pen which was before behind
My ear, I had
Pushed between my coiled fingers, of
My floppy, lifeless right hand,
I pick up the paper from my blood-stained
Desk, and screw it up with the passion of
A stuffed bear.
“Bloody hell!” I’m a part-timer,
I sip my wine like a disgusted enthusiast,
And wipe the drips off my
Fevered brow, how
Can I allow
Myself, to get into such a pathetic state?
Over something so trivial, Struth!
I put out the candle with my sweaty palm, and
Ajourn to my cold, heartless ‘lit’ where I can
Dream, delectable dreams of passion and Success,
Without distress or regress,
Or the need to impress.
Melt in a memory,
Slide in a solitude
I need to read by the moon.
i liked alot of the lyrics but it just didnt flow enough, i'd consider some slight revising
"melt in a memory,
slide in a solitude"
fu'in brilliant
fight the power... with peace

Originally Posted by Cockpuncher 2.0
Fail town, population you

When God said "Let there be light", Joey Jordison said "Say please".

Man is a universe within himself
Bob Marley