it sounded just fine the story checked out
there was a god up above who can hear if you shout
and the tiniest piggies, make the tiniest mess
and you cannot buy them though their meat is the best
and these big heavy plants, they grow up your spine
so if you stand just right it all still feels fine
and your told what to think, but your free in your mind
so you spend all you time writing about all your time
and you dream every night about winning a fight
if these plants weren’t so tight you swear you just might
and love is a game that we play when we’re bored
or love is a game that you play with a sword
or love is not a game it’s an unholy war
or love is so tender so that’s why your sore
i’m sure love is something of what i’m not sure
and i can’t picture love without love being pure
but in a book they said once it was something they said
and it sounded all black and all white and all dead
and these machine’s watch you at night when you sleep
and the facts are just facts in a book that they keep
so when the sun rises and you can’t escape from the heat
that’s your hell, and heaven, all wrapped up and neat
(10:55 p.m. 8-12-08)
You find it hard to tell sometimes
if reading between the lines defines
the sort of mess that God can clean
but I digress, I think I’ve seen
enough
At least enough to tell
Which way leads to heaven, and which to hell
or rather the one that seems more real
after all of it’s rampant sex-appeal.
I hear you can buy for a steal
and it’s stamped with approval, rubber sealed
With approval.
Coming from somewhere. Someone.
Best listen. We’d better trust them
buy it all up ‘fore the feds come and bust them
and us
just for buying up promises
and bold lies
and such.
-J.S.
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