The search to cure my Plight

I was going to write some poetry With some deep shit words About how the paths of tomorrow may never come true, With added rhyming sultry About how my fucked-up heart keeps pushing me through. About how life might never Get me where I long to be. But then I got on my ride After hitting and creasing To realise I will always keep being dismissed. They told me before; I should ask the lord for forgiveness. So I went to look for God in the confinements of the church. But, they never taught me to pray. Next thing I know they are passing the money tray. The priest overlooked me, Said I wasn’t dressed to please, Next time I should make an effort Maybe wear something more sleaze. So I wrote him a cheque Hoping that a baptism ticket he’d sell Tried to buy my children way out of hell. But that didn’t stick. As the heathen I was born to be I went to a guru, He told me I needed to chill

Handed me a pill

That I proceeded to spill. I was petrified He gave me such fright, Told me my pineal gland might be calcified. To cure my plight, He suggested I woke up and suck a lemon Each and every day. I told him, fuck it!

That shit ain’t right.

So I went to the Doctor,

Told him I wasn’t ‘aight. He googled the answer

And gave me no option

Prescribed lots of water

To swallow the medication That’d appease my exhaustion. This was all just too feign With no indication to rid of This soul-eating pain. So I fell to the ground, Yet not Earthbound. Allowed Gaia’s sybarites to sip me entirely. Took advantage of the starkness

Found there in my darkness. And only when I reached the bottom of the chasm Did I climb back up with enthusiasm Through the wonders of the Looking Glass.

So fuck you bastards And kiss my ass.