if only she were a little less beautiful and a little more fucked up in the head. would make things a lot easier for me. all these pretty boys. coming and going. shitting where they eat. you never met one like me before though. pale and beat up. singing country songs and listening to Whitehouse. burning down churches, stealing and looting his way through life since he first climbed from the clutches of the vagina that gave him life. an honest to goodness cowboy. a trouble maker with a troubled spirit. here to take what he can when he can however he can. and do with it what he likes, how he likes, the way he likes. ah but don't waste your time. stick with a real man. one that has money, looks and appeal. one that can run fast, talk even faster, deliver good punchlines, and get the crowd on his side. all the time. I look around and see them all doing better then me. But yet I'm the only one smiling. Its odd how it never works out for any of us. how we're always an inch away from our dreams. our goals. our destiny. we always fall short. we always take our last gasp of air reaching out as far as we can. staring down the barrel of fate. we are all destined to fail ourselves. hard and desperately. we are all destined to die alone wondering why. we are all destined to live out our entire lives in question. we are all destined to achieve impossible goals. set out by benevolent dictators who teach us that thats the way. you aren't allowed to be happy. not in this life. you have to wait till you die in order to reach That kind of happiness. You have to be Willing to Die FOR that kind of happiness. you have to be willing to Kill for that kind of happiness. It's there waiting. just beyond our grasp.
