#1
Tasked to write a thrash song for a compilation we're doing with Dayton metal bands. Here's the bullshit that came out of that, which shows that the well of inspiration in me is drying up. Lazy borrowing from my other pieces and shit. Then again this isn't very serious.


The girls come back in noticeable shoes and
big weaved hair like they've auditioned for Klute,
and with puff and gust blow you down the chute,
Fuckadox brats.
Murder mystery rules.
What's the scream?
What's the scoop?
Seven numbers disappearing into the woods
in heals and ruige -
A shitty Machiavellian coup.

Why would you wish that on me?
I wouldn't wish that on you.
You can go intervene but I'm just a big brown dog
in big brown boots.

"Creeped it's way up the street and
struck the blonde."
Woof woof woof.
"The boy came back, removed his hat
and kept the beat."
Woof woof woof.
Pocket fold, LED birthday belt,
bucket of Bud Lights, "an ATM up
the street," Ralphie Mays and chicken wings.

Why would you wish that on me?
I wouldn't wish that on you.
You can go solve the case,
I've got nothing to except you can
"Go Your Own Way (Go Your Own Way)"
Oint your neck tat and turn up the gain.
I've got genitals on my brain.
Looks like an open and shut case.
Poor advice.