I feel like I’m… worth a million dollars
Able to be loved and cherished by all
To hold everyone else by their collars
Make magic happen with just one call
Smarter than all the living scholars
Created to be divine and never to fall

I feel like I’m… as low as a six-foot-under stash
Lower than the fiery depths of Hell
A dark black stain on my sash
My voice is as if it is an annoying repetitive bell
Seen as an intrusive, and pervasive rash
Maybe I should be locked up in a cell

I feel like I’m… greater than God
More all-knowing and powerful
A giant compared to a rotting cod
More succulent, desired, and flavorful
Even more controlling with my fishing rod
Greater than a being so superficial

I feel like I’m… nearing the end of my time
No longer able to live with myself
The jukebox accepting my last dime
My life resting of a battered shelf
Not a sight that is delightfully sublime
My dark side consuming itself

I feel like I’m… not meant for this world.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 12.12.2011

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