im something unheard and bound under harbor sound but my words are heard loud when im on the mound and with the vocal duress of a lone thrush in a bush thats a quote from a book of my local press push the doctor of ramble and word scramble from the land of proctor and gamble and cop scandals rocking soccer socks in sandals like yeah bro talking crude a tad too verbose and way too close im colder than most older than the youth always under oath and sober in the booth one mans filth is another mans truth big mouth filled with one long tooth do you all when you find yourselves in your late twenties wanna make money do you all when you find yourselves with three tens youd gladly ante on the wind the crucibles proof and fire fused poof with the liars view under my skirt up dude you wanna peruse the tattoos you heard word of any excuse i can use to move my shirt off girls used to fawn over my locks to kill now the girls are gone and im on minoxidil im in decline but women like be jocking still cause i rhyme with skill and talk so chill and youthful bird dog in the mating yard to be truthful quake 89 trading cards with me tubes so three white felt gloves are crucial yes the one left one right one neutral do you all when you find yourselves on stage running for fame wanting do you all when you find yourselves well known you learn youre only more alone i cant sleep in rental cars or airlines yo and so i keep a deck of cards for down time the road and other solo christmas and valentines no its not the hobos wish list i had in mind then when im free off a mission im sorta like filled with ennui indecision and more strife life long bouts with depression lone fights down in the town of unheaven im fine in time though standing with the will to start a bike up hill with pride ringing the bell and riding straight outta hell but waterlines fine like ink from porcupines quils are etched beneath my skull but thats all do you all when you find yourselves in the late morning come awake yearning do you all when you find yourselves amongst friends attempt to blend in with the men id prefer to be some unknown with a sports car than pen the dumb pun poems as a poor star you wanna just come home through the courtyard your son run to greet you with the perfect report card1