out here wasting words like water when you run the faucet for too long.
you say them because they are pretty. you say them because they make you feel good. but when i call on the radio for back-up, i hear no sirens. i take them to the bank, and they laugh at me, and hit the button under the counter.
hallmark words. but at least if they were in a card, there's at least 4 to 1 shot some steak and scotch money would be in there. but no, you give me the words, and leave the bread elsewhere. bastards.
the problem is that there is no consequence to it all. no get-back. you say what you want, and most times, one way or the other, the shit slides cause the words were nice. it's like singing a jesus song at the apollo. nobody boos. there is no further inquiry, no check for authenticity. no body bites the coin, looks through lupe. drops the sodium hypochlorite on the soft white to see if it turns blue.
and i get hit with some wild shit, forreal. and i know i'm not alone. and on the surface, they are beautiful words. seemingly special sentiments. movie quotes. sweeter than a chocolate easter bunny.
and just as hollow.
for all your words, what is there to show for it? when i was on balls and knuckles, the lights dim and the air thick. back pinned against the wall wrestling for my sanity, muscles been failed, and mind knows it didn't study enough, you were gone like a teenaged streetwalker with a sniff habit.
i was banging with the savage leviathans with those who gave me the actions first, and left the words at home with the children, who may have been served better by them.
you talk reckless to me. just wrapping me up about shit. all wrong and don't care. could be anything, sports, movies, life. you've taken no time to understand, just to form an opinion. you don't want to listen, so you don't want to understand.
when i was a younger man, it bothered me. had me lightweight down bad at times. i've grown up and out since then. doesn't affect me anymore. but i need ya'll to stop nonetheless. should have said it back then. better now than never. because you are helping to fucking up the world. stripping once valuable words down to dust.
this is where the pump comes in. keeps you honest. you only say what you mean because now your words could get you missing and put your body out of order. i'm not mad that your words were just words. i'm just wishing you never said it, not to me, because i didn't ask for them. you give me a gift that i didn't even hint for, just to open up the box, and find another box.
but i got another box tucked off, and it aint wrapped cause i know whats inside. kevin duckworth's. double zero buckshot shells with nine pellets that will make an absolute mess of you. a mockery.
"you want me to believe that this used to be a person?"
the shit is heavy, but my arms are strong. can't hold it up forever though. and it's gets lighter the more i let off cause the weight is in the rounds.
