It's 3:40 in the afternoon
Can you feel all this frustration
That's building in my gut?
This morning was a shit blown festival
Of ink that smudged my jeans
I tried to perform my work just write
And wound up with an empty feeling.
I wished you had written,
I wish you had known.
I wish I didn't feel so fucking pathetic
As I'm sitting here alone.
But this computer is making my green eyes blonde
This music is destroying my ears
The ink that I spilt all over my jeans
Will probably give me cancer
And I'm so fucking mad right now,
Mad because my roomate freaked
Mad because I can't get the stains off
Mad because because because
Mad because my boss is a dick
Mad because I'm not outside
Mad because I'm in this chair
Mad because because because
I don't want to talk to anyone but you
But this goddamned phone keeps ringing
I wish the world would go away
And leave me and you alone
I hope that you don't take this the wrong way
I'm not mad at you
A poet can't get the pain out any other way
This is all we know how to do
So in essence this was just a bitch
To clean my system out
I guess it's better than getting some gasoline
And burning this whole fucker down
I thought this was going to be about gloves?