The Daily Life...

These days are not for you to read through
Because they desp'rately need a retool
This life is meant to be escaped
There ain't nothing in here to be framed

Stand up and face the big window
'Cause there's no boat for me to row
When you see the sky coming at you
All I can say is that you're being fooled

I'm sick of this, I'm sick of that
I feel the size of a small rat
I'm sick of them, I'm sick of you
But above all, I'm sick of me

A flaming skull is staring at me
But even that's now ordinary
In the end it all becomes your new shoe
and it's time to rid your skin and start anew

I'm sick of this, I'm sick of that
I feel the size of a small rat
I'm sick of them, I'm sick of you
But above all, I'm sick of me

But there's one thing I should tell y'all
The amount of meaning here is really small


And suddenly your streak goes away. Then I got withdrawal symptoms and wrote this simply to have written something.
I was listening to a lot of Red Hot Chili Peppers around this time, which is weird because they're a very summer-like band and it was December. Anyway, the verses kind of fit to the melody of "Can't Stop" if you think about it.


poetry © 2006-2008 kiron pubben page three