He's slowly lipping into the slime Can't inject into his veins blood and guffooze out and stain cares not that he really bleeds death not hell is what he needs sees the place, checks the time some other place, some other time you never know Slipping up and down his writing side his eyes begin to ponder pride subjective pics of misled youth before him lies the dreadful truth undignifiled, insignified his wrist on the razor slides You never know.
