Dead fish and orange syringe.

Red winds and hills of crimson.

I think I know about a fair trade.

Im sitting on a stack of arms and legs

What you know about a fair fight.

Win or lose what it matter if your wrong or right.

Im dragging the tail end of a cigarette counting my sins, added to seven im relished in incompetence.

Quit telling me get it together, I'm better then ever.

More than on top of it, I'm washed up with nothing but no promises.

Only some friends in my head, no politics

It's better I end up like this, not even remembering, past introductions move into the rhetoric

Nobody to talk too, replaying the cartoons

Alone with your thoughts in a room.

Until I wake up. Nails through my palms

I cross my heart and dot my arms.

A Dirty dog or a lamb of God

Im living my best or the obvious. Drowning in stress