It's coffee in the morning
And liquor by night
Blessed on the weekends
By dark horse heathens
Try as they might,
It's ghost faced children
And their goat-headed dads
Unwinding pool side
Splitting hairs with mom
Fighting boredom,
It's yards all filled with crap
You bought from the dollar store's scrap
To convince the neighbors
That you're red white and Bluetooth
Even on the inside,
It's the season of growing up
I've had it up to here with
Should of, would of, could of
Keeping calm on the crust
I'm deep dish though, enough is enough
It's an always oxidizing rust
Set on our bones and it eats
Our jaws until ossification comes
To teach us, keep us good company
And no more moving mouths,
It's half past puking
When good poison sets in
Or is it half past trashed
When the alcohol reaches critical mass
I see no difference in the two,
It's always case-and-point
That hand-meets-leather way-of-lash
Kind of thinking that plasters me
To glass cases, hypnotic with
Title bouts of idle fury,
It's the face of god
In your good morning sunshine
Happy to see you cereal bowl
Let's paint a smile on
Before we dial in a suicide,
It's something we shouldn't say
That gives political correctness
It's bullshit point of view
Because civilization cares about feelings
And not about simple truths,
It's the last drop of maxwell
The last gasp of gasoline
Before the sputtering starts
The spelling of this hurts my heart
And I've misspelled it poorly