....Another night of too much cough syrup.
I'm awakened by the incessant ringing of a telephone.
I still have dreams caked in the corners of my eyes,
And my mouth is dry and tastes shitty.
Again, the ringing.
Slowly, I bustle out of bed,
The remnants of an erection
Still lingering in my shorts
Like a bothersome guest.
Again, the ringing.
Carefully, I abscond to the bathroom,
As to not display my manhood to others.
There, I make the perfunctory morning faces
Which always seem to preceed my daily contribution
To the once-blue toilet water
That I always enjoy making green.
Again, the ringing.
I shake twice like most others,
And I'm annoyed by the dribble
That always seems to remain,
Causing a small acreage of wetness
On the front of my briefs.
I slowly, languidly, lazily, crazily
Stumble into the den
Where my father smokes his guitars
....I mean, cigars....
In his easy chair.
I know ALL about easy chairs.
And then I sing a song for my friends:
"Jesus is my boyfriend!
Jesus is my boyfriend!
You can't have him,
Because Jesus is my boyfriend!"
Ringing, ringing, dang it!
Goddamn, mother fuckin' son of a bitchin' ringing!
I walk into the kitchen and I stare blankly
At that shreiking plastic bastard.
Since it keeps ringing, I know it's her.
And since it keeps ringing, she knows it's me.
"We are the world.
We are the children.
We are the ones who make a darker day,
So lets start killing.
There's a choice you're making,
We're sparing our own lives.
It's true we make a darker day,
Just you and me."
(An effected, distorted piece; half spoken, half sung)
Sometimes I'll just bring maybe an action figure or two.
You know....
Other times, I'll bring my garlic spread.
You know, the garlic spread....
The garlic spread's important.
And then you just walk around,
And the people always come up
And they're always sayin',
"Whaddya got in yer lunchbox?"
"For the most part, it's usually my lunch,
You goddamn cunt."
I get so mad.
But you know....
Yeah, they....
Sometimes I'll just....
I just
SCREEEEEAM!
"Hit it!"
There's a devil in my lunchbox!
There's a devil in my lunchbox!
He's right over there
Next to the peanut butter and jelly sandwich
And the banana.
That's right.
There is a devil in my lunchbox.
There is a devil in my lunchbox.
He's just hangin' out
By the peanut butter and jelly sandwich
And the banana
That sometimes you gotta bruise
Like one of them strippers at the Peach Tree Lounge.
That's on Power Line Road,
Right next to the pound,
By the 7-11.
Devil in my lunchbox!
There's a devil in my lunchbox!
He's just hangin' out
By the peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
There is a devil.
There is a devil.
There is a devil in my lunchbox!
There is a devil in my lunchbox!
Devil, devil, devil in my lunchbox.
(Repeat Several Times)
There's a devil in my lunchbox!
"Take my money,"
Is all I think.
He looks at the earring.
"Fag," he mumbles.
I don't mind.
He's fat.
No one likes him.
Life's too short.
I pass a table of black girls
With short hair.
They look like men.
They all look the same.
I can hear the strobe now,
It's loud.
And the music's too bright.
I look for my friends,
But I can't remember if I came alone
Or not.
Doesn't matter though.
There's hundreds of people
Who have waited all their lives,
No doubt,
To be my friend.
And as I near the bar
I see two persons
Eating each other's faces.
I bark to the bartender.
He gives me a placebo.
I'm "so young," he tells me,
"To be here."
I nod and swallow the bland drink.
Then I stumble several times
Near a crowd,
And they think I'm a good dancer.
I hear a girl tell another girl
That some girl she knows
Watched a
Girl
Puke in the toilet.
I smile in their general direction.
The good-looking one comes over
And bites my cheek.
It hurts,
And I start to
Hit her.
But she's grinning,
And I can see my blood on her teeth.
And I pull her to me.
"My place or yours?"
"The gutter will be fine," she confesses.
As we walk out,
She takes another bite from my cheek,
And I smile at the fat man
By the door.