It's eaten who I am. It pauses plans. It took my
Hands beaten. Tool I am. The fools and ham,
but that's OK...
Well
I've fought to succeed against the cold
shoulders of misfortune and it's elusive
schemes...
When I'd seen it all I thought I
was fit to judge it
until I lost my wyn...
Those Days come like napalm and burnt out
those things that make some and break
some to
amount to s**t...
But I'm OK with it stapled to my head!
Play god the wrong. OK I think we know that
feeling deep
down I'm not so scorned , just
Neuro fibro deformed...
The truth is I'd rather live like s**t than conform
and stoop to
novelty.
The less I care, the less I feel.
