Neither a politician nor honest man
Neither spiteful nor kind
Neither a rebel nor a saint
Neither a hero nor an ant
I am as I am.
Who am I?
"Who am I?"
You ask like it matters
What concerns you with
A faceless fameless stranger
Living in an Underground system
A regime that forms a loch ness
Cold, Nasty and brute;
Looking at the world through
crack, needles, smokes.
Once,
Not long ago
I was a man
Full of grace
living a Life of ease
And a home oozing lavishly,
The ceaseless chattering
of the squirrel
Attracts it's hunter
By the good of my hand
And the gluttony of my
once Bulging belly
With my untamed rod
With which I strike
Every skirt I fancy
I condemned myself
To wildering wretch
The day the squirrel feeds
are few and far between,
It's days of hunger longlasting.
Like an angel
I have been casted down
Into a well.
Friends, family, lovers
That licked my oilly hands
Have all flown far away
Like Flies leave shit
At the crash of a big stone
Poverty's manignant claws
Has stripped me bare
Of garment, crown and glory
I have grown frail from hunger
I am a scarecrow
An object to scorn
Oh the Peril!
Oh the anguish!
So Unfortunate I am
to be tormented by desire
For a memory that is out of reach,
If my misery is put on scale
It will outweigh the sands of Sahara
All my attempts at redemption
Meets rock at the bottom
My hope constantly
shattered to pieces
My soul robbed of its peace
I feel the spite brewing
Like a pompous thunder
with no rain
I am enraged by envy
Ambition's scorching lust
Keeps me up
counting sheeps,
Terrifying dreams drags my night
Dawn never coming
A captive of desire
I have grown ill natured
from dense longings.
A thousand ways to die
I have tasted them all
Iku,
why have thou forsaken me
to rot alive?
Stretch forth your hand
In mercy and crush me
In the hay days
Of my great decline
Into this sunken place,
Its darkness overwhelmed me
Till it possessed me completely
Withering away my colourful petals
Now my heart is a grey, brutal place;
I am a stem, with branches covered in thorns;
an evil lurking
In the shadow of light,
Preaching disdain with an accent of love;
In flattering insolence
I find my strength;
illusion of power
courses through my vein
It is the one with a head
That suffers an headache,
One who has,
Has something to lose,
Like an infuriated bull set loose,
Into self destruct
I charge with my horns down
Into the regime that has exiled me to hell.
