rottenart

The air is thick with hate.

It's funny how the bricks fall out.

I couldn't sing if I wanted to,
and someone will take the blame.

A job that widens the gap.

A gun that isn't loaded.

Eating like a little pig
with a petrol powered smile.

The bullets fell like rain.

Trying leads to dying.

We'll all be working in mines
and forgetting to fall asleep.

Underneath your rubber skin
the muscles are in revolt.

Germs are everywhere these days

Climbing on other's backs
only to find a hole
where the bottom
looks just like
the top.