Dead

Killing my relationships, as I run fast threw this life, wanting to be bill free, as in slave free. Wanting to be stable with somebody, but somehow I run over all these funny men. After all, I'm not ken.
I have lost my isperation, as somebody tells me to slow down, it feels like I've lost my crown. I run around in my g-star clothing, feeling like a dead fish, dull and boring. But as I plan this life of mine, their is more to it then money, and smelling like pine. Perhaps not, perhaps my back pack is filled of these things I have bought. Just items, that once made me happy, I see them and feel empty, I feel them and fear them.
Packing evrything in small boxes, not the first time, but maybe like the 55th. I feel like I make no sence, I feel very young, I feel very dense. But life goes on, a new day, with a new bill, a new feeling, people dealing, me loosing my appealing.
With this roof over my head, I go to bead... Feeling safe, feeling like a man who made it threw another day, trying to fall asleep, with a body feeling small, even though I am tall. Somehow I always seem to fall, into these traps, wondering- "where are all my caps" item's I have lent, longing for my next event.
I finish this text, feeling grey, looking for my feelings, it's like looking for the fucking needle in the hay.
fuck my life, I maybe want a wife, 'cause men are shit, 'cause men I spit. I cannot understand, as I look at my hand. Confront myself, then I hang me high up on my shelf, write these lines, smelling like hunny and pines. Today I don't shine, neither does the sun, the sky is crying, instead of me. Thank's, I tell the clouds, thank you thank you, and fuck you.

grass was green Spring Ive seen