Bugs bugs bugs
I've got bugs in my pocket
I've got bugs in my bed
They've fucked up my programming
Now they're fucking with my head
I've talked to their representatives
I've sat with them in meetings
But no matter how much I placate them
I can't stop them from eating
Eating into my brain
Making my thoughts profane
I'd surely blame the bugs
If I wasn't already insane
Now I'm forgetting people
Forgetting places and names
Cuz I've got bugs in my head, ma'am
And I'm sick of their games
They're eating the good stuff
And I'm left with vile junk
Today the mirror looked at me and said
What you looking at, punk?
I absolutely love the tone your poems have and the themes and subjects you use. The fact that you rhyme it and so well just makes it even better.
ReplyDeleteHey Voodoo, thanks for the comment :) it's always good to hear from someone who reads what I write.
DeleteCheers!