I wish I had some pentothal,
you don't deserve anything else.
I'll grab a cocktail of despair
and get you a dash of sorrow.
Me accused of having feelings in a wrap?
I breath this new fist of war
as I confort my believes
delivering you to your own gutter.
Riding on a legless horse
the world is faking your future.
But you don't seem to care
as the shining aye is always there...
Good luck.
Vasco Pompaelo*
A form of cultural prostitution and social suicide
