I have found a lack of sympathy
for my chemically dependant brothers and sisters.
It disturbs me my eye rolling attitudes,
I search through my studies of gods,
I search for the compassion within me.
And I only have it half a day a week.
I try and I try and I try and I try,
having myself cross the fucking death junk line,
the forcid cock the back hand of love,
I know, I know, I know I, know,
if I can get my shit clean after all the shit I seen,
if I can still fall in love,
and laugh my head off at my life,
and my hard hard lessons.
Then why don't you you rich 35 yr. old junkie fuck,
I want compassion for you, but my friend I have none!
You bear your victimization like a cross, a crutch.
Your lazy, its easier than to cop out than to rise above,
believe me, believe you me,
I can't believe you but just to be nice
right now is that half a day a week,
that ill make a search for compassion.
For you, poor you, you fucking white millionaire!
My eyes are aching from roll.
Okenspay Ordway I (Aka Things I Forgot to Tell Mommy)
- Infected Tattoo
- Rock Star Man
- You Got the Job
- Alphabet Poem
- We're Assholes
- Half a Day a Week
- Alcohol Is the Root
- Calling All
- T.V. Baby
- Metal Queen
- Alcohol or Comedy
- Obsessed w/Childhood
- No Me Drink
- Porno Brainwash
- 32 Fuetes
- I'm Yer Peer
- Factory Hot Rod
- All You Ever Do
- Stumpy the Mouse
- Poem #357651
- Gig Tits
- My Satan Poem