Grindstone
Cowboy
Sometimes
you write a rogue song
Sometimes
the playing just goes all wrong
Sometimes
your mind and fingers smoke a bong
Sometimes
it’s a grind and you find you’re like the Viet Cong
A war
within your self that has to run its course
The enemy
illusion is those metal strings that pulse
The
stronger infusion is you knowing it’s only a goddamn convulse
Conflict
between, which is why you reach for the dose
The urge
can feel like a curse so you crash those strings
The drive
that makes you write becomes frustration’s darling
So smash
the day and redo the illusion of sunrise
Reality
right now is a shattered mirror of lies
Life
loves the risk averse because they conform to the universe
Bending
to its force and surfing its pointless vectors of curse
When you
show your soul naked without defense
That’s
when you destroy convention become a tool of the edge
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