what do you do for pleasure?
well me, i stock pile treasure.
all due to the pressure.
as i need /some/ sort of measure
to be able to do what i must.

or should i just rust?
turn to dust.
an oxidised layer to cover my brain,
for in that oxygen i can trust.
then i wouldn’t need to do
that thing that do i must.

i’ve gone bust.
i feel lust.
the carnal kind,
though i’m too frustrated.
so i crawl under
barbed wire and mud.
for i must.
i must.

resist sin. try to win.
but there is always potential deep within.
like using a tin opener on a tin
then putting the tin opener in the bin.
mistakes are made –
we’re forced into situations
beyond us and our comprehension.

though, all of this… for what?
so we can wake up one day
and start recieving our pension?
only free in the last of our days,
but free in what which ways?
it’s all lies.
time flies.
and in the end the
grape becomes raisin.
with God, i liaison.
then i fall down dead,
rusted and fused to my bed.