material

Ok, thats it-
you're right about done, with all of it.
Grown tired, run dry,
done sex, done highs. What you left to
go by? Smart rides, stress ties
searching for the bigger ride,
the grass is always stronger on the
other side, other pride.
Other brides seem more perfect,
in ass size and quality hide.

You done son,
16 years and now your out on your
own one, own run,
time for you to buy your
own home run. Haven't got money,
and you haven't got no one.
No time, no time, and you miss
out on your social, interaction.
You wank to the beat,
of your daytime t.v,
lucid dreams,haze
hazed, stuffy gaze,
step out of your box, see its day,
drop my way, maybe. Im in the
mood for an opportunity.
Right now you're looking,
real good to me,
real edible, see?

You cant ask how to write meat,
the material comes from
every day clothes on the street.
The everyday people you speak
with and, jest at the bus stop,
about lit fags and bus luck.
The bridges, canals,
shamed buildings that no one wants,
stopped to a haunt on the water front.