Pink eye Open Mic
I go spin on my head
in the last few moments of the post riot crash
hot damn they can dance
I'm feelin like a drug I make you feel and I know you can see me
seein members of my clan I'm thinkin, damn is it really that easy?
then pride tags along for the ride on the side with no doors
and torn patches on ceiling
thinkin do they really need me?
but that's me being needy.
Knowing that the clashing of the backgrounds makes the most delicious sauce
like the one found in the back sink on an eternal Friday night
we call it Murf soup
And the crash of a pan in the back
brings me bombarded with trash
with a bag in each hand like a gunslinger
two empty cans as my holsters
and in whirlwind spirals we pass the last few moments
tryin to hold all the smoke in
at the same time we clean it and close it for open
just like we're supposed to
with finesse and a whole lot of sexy
cuz that's what sells and I'll throw it in bulk
if the game ever lets me
and the trash bins are all empty
and the dishes are done
and the common wish is to just miss the sun
we stare each other down in our pink eye gaze
and break bread with worn maniacal laughter
before we sleep a few and come back again today.
I'll see you guys later...