Igavehima legupI pushed my numb skulledthumbtothe back of his kneeAndprayedThere’snothingtosayhewouldhavewantedit thiswayandon the seventhdaywhenhelaysprayedoutonhisdeath bedonlythendidI askhimtocomedown.I always choose friendswithmadminds, who roam freewhocan’tseethedamagetheydo.Theirlittleheartsbeatingtothetimeofdeath.TheirlittlelegsspedupliketheirheartsTheir little brains batteredwithoverexposure, of under pressureorofgoddamnlazinessThequestioncanneverbewhy.These junkyardvandals,theseemotional vixensBatteringmyfragilebones.Yougrabbedontothatcarasit drovedown5thstreetYoupokedthatneedlerightintomychest.Andwhenyoudie,I willbetheoneonmyown.Igaveyoua legup,youkickedmedown,sacrificedmetothesolidarity of death,oflonelydeathI lay floatingina puddleofyourwashedupmadnesstalking towaterlikesome madfuckedupfailingpreacher.Wecannothaveanothersadsong.GetupyouwanderingangelPutyourdefacedshoeson.TiethemintotheprettiestbowyoucanseeWalk into that office andcapturethe hearts of the peopleYouAndIHavemorechanceif westickatthistogetherandthetruthis,youcan’tshakeme.I stand here- headupsolid,likethefifthplinthinTrafalgar Square,You canpissonmebutI’mnotmovingYou delicate little thing.ALAN MOON / ALICE ST CLAIRRE, OF UNDER PRSURE, OF UNDEROSURE, OF UNDEWITH OVERVER EXPOSUINS BATTEREDHRITLER I S A E E D W
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