All the empty doorways of the lonely hearts
hoping, I will do
more than just, walk-on through
They do it, in the summertime
in their canary-yellow dresses, too sad to sing
bright, but not quite
The girls don’t cheer me up, even when they smile
I don’t want sympathy. Could it be that romance
is a ridiculous thing? If you go after what you want
you will be disappointed
and tears, don’t stop the lightning
Maybe, I’m just being a gray cloud right not, but
I’m continually frustrated
until I choose not to be—
that’s called quitting, but I can’t.
So, here’s to winning. To the girls in their multi-colored dresses
who are interesting, but aren’t beautiful. To the women
who can’t get what they want.
To the men, who need to kill their competition
To the dictators, who run-through 3,000 women
and murder 6 million men. To a world that screams and laughs.
I make a toast, to beautiful suffering.
To conversations that go nowhere.
To everybody listening, who don’t care.
like the cycles of the moon
Nobody wants to know your pain, because it hurts
and they have had enough.
Basically, suffering, doesn’t mean anything
to a deaf universe.
I talked to a woman who had 25% of her hearing
She answered, every single one of my questions
but the girl, with the V-neck top
and the blonde hair, and the big boobs, ignored 75% of what I said.
She was 23. My friend took her away from me
and got her number.
All is fair, in love and war.
Does it matter?
We get older, until
there is nothing left. People have regrets
I don’t know what I need to do
to avoid that bitter baggage
I’ll declare it “lost luggage”
if I have to
or I won’t declare it at all
at the claim.
Most of us are beaten, until we stop crying out
We do the natural thing, and avoid the stick
I love it.
Nature, is moving towards extinction
it cannot love itself
a light, burns out
When the heartbeats stop, the lonely hearts
and they won’t be lonely, anymore.