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Tue April 21, 2026 11:20:05 [ Login ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: 1, [2], 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 ]

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Date Posted: 20:06:57 03/12/03 Wed
Author: Psilocybe
Author Host/IP: user99.net335.fl.sprint-hsd.net / 65.40.20.99
Subject: 2nd effort

This is gonna be my second time postin'. I penned this shit the other night after watching a boxing match.

Down in the pits and on the ropes inside the ring/
Are the bloodstains of decay, the brutally arrogant crisis that makes devils sing/
Even the winner is a true loser in the ranks of logical minds/
Cutting to the dinner, the future
Before knowing his hunger, the signs/
No mind the foundation he’s building is only full of worms/
It’ll only be one of the turns/
Sucking in all you have to burst with the only holy shot you ever had/
Now that one life is part of history cursed with a river of winners all gone bad/
And even the best leave brain dead, lacking thirst, sold out, stabbed/

Alcoholic, broken, mad
And doesnt that make you sad
Useless, wasteful, fruit gone bad
And how can you not be sad

And at the end of his sojourn journey/
Thoughts will ramble, guilt burning, vision blurry/
Knowing all along he misinterpreted his youthful lucid yearning/
Selling his soul to make his life worth spit/
Because money can’t buy pride and the comfort of living with what’s left of it/
And all you can do is praise the attitude the presence/
Working the motions of a career, playing a game of betting with your essence/
a path routine of self-esteem born from a draft of fresh air/
entitling those intrigued with the indisputable, undeniable facts and flair/
and how will you react?
Under the option of putting up through the bulshit/
Working behind painted walls, neglecting the truth in it /
To achieve a life that might be fit and tall/
Or the option of staying legit /
Preserving pride, trying to capitalize, not taking the fall/
And to never feel compromised at all/
Its fucked up cause I’m still trying to do both /
An Irreconcilable drift in loyalty, a feeling I loathe/
Cause the prize fighter in me answers to higher opinions/
Influences other than myself and its contingents/
To learn and gather what is needed to assemble my hopes/
Instincts that will make me think the next time I question the blood on those ropes.

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