Prick A Bad Po'em To Allow The Pestilence Out

 
 
 
What's it gonna cost
            to live tomorrow?
A piss bucket of pain?
               A shitload of sorrow?
 
I deceive myself at every turn,
 thinking that what i think I know
                     is something like special, like real.

Yeah, right. Not even close, dada..

This shiver-show deludes us right from the start.
That's all that I'm privy to know.
That's all I need to know.
That's all I want to know.
 
What's it gonna cost
                            to live tomorrow?
I have to know what you
                             think you know.
 
( I promise not to laugh,  )
 
 
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