Morning Head Rush

Published on December 19, 2004 By propagandhi In Philosophy

Haven't even brushed my teeth yet but the head rush creeps in
smoke from the pack the young sailor bought me
he calls me from places unknown and makes unfullfillable promises
I want a real man
not a broken man

my man was broken from when he was born i suppose
but have i not fixed him enough
he loves me for me
not because I look like buddy holly

I smell the patchouli vanilla
and I want to go to boulder
boulder ho's they wanna get with this

sweet american sweat that drips on my forehead
sweet blackistan the land I'll never forget
the land I never really left

my addiction to going out, or so my mother puts it
is becoming self evident

`she only has to work until may right` says priti the fucking khiani that fucked my sister up
the fucking right wing mother fucking class system socialites that breed their own dismay

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