Trippin'
Stammer and trip
Over my own words
That come back to haunt me
Like sewer turds
Buzzards fly about my house
Guess they know I thought to douse
Myself in gasoline
And become a self-torched
Buddist monk,
For some of my words
really stunk...
But there I go,
With my mindless chatter,
When will I learn
It doesn't matter
What I may think
Or I may say
The world goes on
In it's own way.
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