The ashtray yellsThere is an angry drunk man in front of meThat looks at meAnd I avoid himMy body throws acid chemicalsThat make my head acheIt is rainingAnd I am done.

At night,my thoughts ponder.I sleep and my thoughts wander.If the moon had a face,what would it look like? Would it have eyes,welcoming and kind?And a grin,the most welcoming you could find?But when I finally look at the moon above me. Sure,it...

When I was little,I was told a sentence.When you grow older,your problems will fly away.And so became my preference. Time by time,I got older.Nighttime longer,yet nights colder.They tell me,all your problems would shrink. Now they care me blurryface and I care...