The Stooge

I've kept it in my heart

for over twenty fucking years

And all that time washing away

With the stench of my spilt tears

I've lingered on the amorous

Transformed into something hideous

With the love of life felt to new extents

And reaching new heights of ugliness

The Stooge

Stool pigeon of idiots

King of jesters, pawn of comediennes

A pillar that supports my own demise

Believing all that's seen

Throughout my vacant eyes

I'm rewriting paragraphs

In my life that don't read well

Once opposed to editing my regrets

I've grown sick of this denial

Tempted every hour

By the benefits of being a liar

Turning my back at what's at hand

And writing stupid verse to make it all seem grand

Some say there's something to strife

That serves those grieving spineless artists

Transforms shit into a masterpiece

And makes their vain attempt at pain

So fucking romantic

And I'm certain that someday my time will come

I'll crash and burn like everyone