I hate the fucking world where you
pay $2.25 for old coffee with ice in
it, sittin' and sippin' on an old broken
Let me tell you, the world is stool
here's what a lizard skin bitch is:
Never let them know you're in need,
because need is weakness, and
weakness is when you are
fucked or conquered.
You need lizard skin, you see.
When you need, make it seem not
a need. You do not need, you are
Words should come out smoothly,
but tentatively, like a large brown log.
Not sporadically or passionately, like
one who is out of control. This is not
Remain continent. With a back
that is calloused so the blows
do not bruise. Remember, boulders
are to roll off of it, not stay on.
Coiff your hair, manicure your toes,
put nice clothes on-- and don't
forget the smile. Save the evil
for confidential phone calls, behind
backs, with the door closed.
Whatever pain you've felt, keep in
mind, it's worse than the others.
And fuck it, polish that lizard
skin, make it shine like
new car paint.
Fill your life with things and feel
part of it. Don't slow down-- you need
to keep those strides large and quick--
otherwise your heart may be visible again.
And that is scarier than your driest of