Scary Gibberish Rap

This is dedicated to Michael, who gave this verse its title
That we were talkin' 'bout printers isn't 'xactly vital
But everything has to come from somewhere
Somewhere out there, out where?, just there
You know where, cuz you're there too
FUBAR, 'fill in your own variable here' foo
And I'm lyin' in bed, with a headache as big as the Ritz
Thinkin' fuck this, I did it again, nothing fits
Together anymore, and it's falling apart
Quicker that you can say bleeding heart
Decisions to make, plans not made
Pressure and stresses shortin' my short-circuitin' fuses
And the words keep comin', nothing to stop 'em
Go to bed dear, and just you keep on poppin'
Those pills, but you don't wanna get rest,
When you'd rather be shootin' the enemy in LaserQuest
That way they don't bleed, it's nice and clean
But if I die, will it be like I've never been?
We're only the sum of the memories of friends
Blurred through a dirty lens, talked about by keystroke pens
I could out-Finnegan Finnegan better than Joyce
Words keep comin', not enough time, but aint got no choice
Stream of consciousness yeah today it's my voice
And the goddamn angels sure aint gonna rejoice
Over this sinner, no, you got to be a winner
In this world, cuz if you got no money you got no dinner
And you aint got no house, no safe place to hide
No choice, no voice, how can you provide?
Angels falling out of the sky, like in 'Paradise Lost''
Lucifer and the rebels into hell were tossed, they didn't count the cost
Bam! and we're down there too, all those books by old John Milton
Got a more epic life than that ho Paris Hilton
Telling the story of the fall of man (and woman) and Satan
Temptation and stuff that even God couldn't straighten
As you fall you make no sound, wish for a place where you want to be
Sure as hell not in hell and the angels are not me
But I see them clearly and they're saying gonna get up now
Sistah?, cuz if you can't then you're really fucked any how
And you know in this world you got to be a winner yes
So you pick yourself up out of the mess, and wantin' to confess
That you feel like death in every way, but you're not givin' in
And you still want to kill though you know it's a sin
But you don't know what or who or which, and you feel like a witch
Worn-out, and ugly like the devil's bitch
You want to kill life for being so hard, but got to get up to write these words
Cuz the day is movin' on, and the singing of the birds
Gets on your nerves as you drink your coffee and your tea
You wanna be hopeful and healthy and not misunderstood
Hope keeps you going and you wanna greet the day feeling good
And the night recedes, and you promise yourself you're gonna be
Focused and sober and lovin' of yourself, and you talk to friends
And the mood starts to lift, but you know nothing ever ends
Until it ends, and you change the patterns, and you know that you will
And you know that you won't, and it's all up and down, and nothin' ever stays still.

22nd August 2008