Not Much of a Man

Taping up these holey boots, to keep from getting wet. I wonder if these clouds present a brontosaurus bread* Wailing on a thing, and thinks that I haven't thought of yet. Waiting out for something more than that. Tongue tired, and over tied up, silencing these sounds Hell-bent, obsessed with sounding clever and profound Realising that the bottle's already halfway down. And when its down, I guess its down... Well, at least I've tricked the ceiling (and myself) into believing its the sky. When the beach was my backyard, well then I'd laugh so goddamn hard until I cried. Staring out the window, feeling dead and watching wind blow up the sand. When my eyes catch my reflection, I realise I am not much of a man. Purging all the parts and pieces that ain't worth a shit Burning over, trying to get the smallest slot to fit Something tells me that it's not the last I've heard of it Making room for something less than this. Sorting out the ones to burn and the ones I'd maybe fix Thinking of the ones I lost, and add them to the list Trying not to think to hard of the ones I might've missed Coz when they're gone I guess they're gone. Turn me sour from sweetness, and I turn my strengths to weakness every night. And it's easier to forgive and to forget than it is to face it and to fight. So I guess you best be leaving, and I'll just go along believing best I can It's when I get to drinking that I realise I am not much of a man.