‘Living in Sin’
The man on street has got nothing to eat; the man with the suit has got lots of loot.
Living in sin with their credit card or bankers, carrying around the burden like a ships anchor.
Who’s the wanker now you silly cow, tainted meat to fowl to eat but feast for the man in on the street
The horse in the field bites the grass, the boy on street hopes the buzz will last.
Standing on the corner of a petrol station, the young men standing likes soldiers ready for action.
Ready for action, or take the back seat. Stand on the frontline or wave the white flag in defeat.
Defeat on the horizon or is it a bar that’s too far, would drive if I had a car.
A black car parked on the street while the man still has nothing to eat.
Throw a six or grasp your sweaty crucifix, drop and pill to dispense your ills.
Paint your muck onto a blank canvas or masturbate over picture of the lord, read these lines and think oh my Christ or leave the man in the corner to his own device.
A devious mind standing from behind, press forward to rewind the clock, stop the victim standing in the dock
Land a three and decide where to be, in a box confessing your sins like a dispensation of constipation.
Empty stomach ready for another throw or a blowjob from the whore staring out of the window.
Windowpane or a pain in the head, a game of dominos or a placebo before you go to bed
The deafening sound of the silence and the overwhelming blindness of light from the emptiness created from the emotion we call fear is hard to digest.
Our experiences teach us to be afraid, to expect the worse. Our thoughts dictate the creation of the worst.
Thinking is like taking crack, once you start you cannot stop. Stop thinking and start living.
Fear will then have no beginning
Copyright © Martin Askem 2008- 2009
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