Fake

If it don’t make dollars

It don’t make cents

And you are, even still,

The biggest fakest bitch (I ever met)

Floating in timelessness well spent

You think she’d catch the flow, or the hint

That life is truly meaningless if you aren’t truly feeling it

Just another upset, what a motherfucking regret

Everything I do or have done, useless words in a forgotten play

And was it written just for fun?

“You’re supposed to come live with me”

And I’m looking for the nearest gun

Living out of a broken down hatchback parked by the bay

Just making it through the day

On another call to AAA; 710 totals

And I can’t even say what’s left

Or acknowledge how even less remains

Just another waste of space

In a forgotten game of fancy rhymes

Killing my infinite free time

Fake shit and crack pipes

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s