hanged man boozin'

I can not recall
most of the late night fuck me-s
I'm starving
and T-bone ate the last goddamned egg
again
 
the sunshine made me vomit today
he still hasn't called me back
and I'm really starting to think
vodka has a not-so-secret
vendetta against me
though I haven't found any double a numbers
in the swear jar recently
 
that's getting redundant
 
my skins been feeling plastic
especially when I'm masturbating
to the contempt
I have dangling from the bathroom mirror
I guess that's just what happens
when Venus starts rejecting you
 
I feel like my ol' man today
grinding tar into my lungs
and boozin' to Lynyrd Skynyrd  
Devil in the Bottle on repeat
shit on my boots
and comfortable lying in the dogs dirt
home
alone  
 
he still hasn't fucking called me
he's got that hanged man blues on his mind
wrapped around his throat
and death in his sight
with regards to a god
he can't believe in
 
"cry for the bad man"
I won't cry for the bad man
but I'll sob  
for Coreys pain
and a knife ruined  
on a bad man
 
personally
I wouldn't of cut the rope
but I'm just a cunt like that
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
sometimes
I wanna die too