No more phone calls
I’m done with my thinking
It takes to much room
And hinders my drinking
Spent all my nickels
And drank all my dimes
Still dry
And I’m lost and you’re gone
And it’s just getting worse
Pay for my funeral
And rent out a hearse
Look down the bottle
Bless its beauty
Fall asleep . . .
Then I wake think of you
And I fall back to sleep
And I’ll dream blissfully
Of stabbing the sheep
No one is left
And you’re still in Texas
Fuck an A . . .
I alone and I’m fucked
It will always be shit
While you are gone far away
And I’m stuck in this pit
There’s no one around
And I’m always alone
I’ll die
No more letters
I’m sick of the pages
Missing your sorrow
While locking these cages
Smoke down a carton
Drink down a bottle
Yeah I’ll just die
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