Her death is like cotton candy

Sweet and disintegrating

Like a scholarship freshman's mind at a frat party

Death is nothing to laugh about

Or compare to fucking COTTON CANDY!

Who the hell are you to say it's the end?

You don't know

Maybe they were right after all

Maybe there is something more

After the last of the sugar melts into the grass

in the April rain

The Queen of France sang me to sleep last night

Sang from under the guillotine.

Sang like a bird in the depths of dreaming

Cowboy Troy has nothing on this

I moved so far left I'm back on the right

Right like Christians are

About Jehovah

And his rules about porking fudgepackers

Tomorrow mourning it'll be waking up raining

Tomorrow mourning is non-existent

Chance or change? I don't know if I

know which from which.

But I've written this before back when I

was a young'un and new everything

I don't regret a thing except that

fucking Republican.

Fuck him but not by me.

That's too much and I don't filth out

to Saturn like others

Sleep is the opiate of those without religion or drugs

My drugs are tied up a few miles down the road

and my religion is tied up somewhere in someone

else's mind

So I resort to sleep and the depth of that

Which lies undiscovered because you never

bothered to look past that rainbow oil puddle

In the Wal-Mart parking lot

I'm not going to make it

It cannot be made so easily

I might convulse and die when I find it

So I'll just let it be

Until it's time to go

Hendrix and his drugged out ass

Drug me out to high heaven and the cherubs

sing to see me

They love me you know but they know I'm not there

for good

No, I'm going straight to hell for things

I've done

chuckle, chuckle, time for bed