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Ayatollah of Coca-Cola
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11,718 Posts
Discussion Starter · #1 ·
My mind creates things when I'm fast asleep
In that subconscious pool so tranquil and deep
Now extra chlorine's added into the brine
It makes my skin burn and it bleaches my mind


They took me to mechanics to repar my exhaust
They medicated me with lots of new sauce
They rearranged my parts and tweaked my design
WIth new ignition, everything would be fine


They told me I should stop my riding the brake
They said to slow down now for your own sake
My destination was catastrophe land
And I was steering with the back of my hand


It wasn't long before I plunged in the gutter
Tried for toast but had no bread and butter
They pulled my pieces from the wreckage below
Fit me back together, tried to get me to go


My family tried to leave me in a junk yard pile
Only recognition was my name on file
I was just a number and a name on the lists
I'd be deep in slumber, still clenching my fists


I'd wake up terrified of what's being said
With all this anarchy alive in my head
People in the streets looting all of the stores
Anxious perspiration oozing from my pores


They stole my prize possessions from the window display
No one came and shopped for weeks, much to my dismay
They made a mockery of me in the local tribune
Said I was out to lunch, a prisoner of noon


I fell beneath the cardboard flaps of Pandora's box
They tried to bury me 'neath boulders and rocks
But my internal fire could not be contained
A house engulfed no matter how much it rained


They said a shrink would try to lighten the load
They'd crunch out numbers, try to break my code
They commended me on my sensitivity
Recommended I show my creativity


To those around me I'm an engine that's failed
Anchored to the ocean floor and never been sailed
But they don't understand the fog is too thick
I can't expose myself when inside I'm so sick


Got caught in traffic in a bumper cars game
They played football with my skin and my name
I had to quarantine myself from the crowd
Into somewhere serene that wasn't so loud


They talked about me, I was not in the room
Which led to feelings of impending doom
It wasn't safe to travel in my wearing-thin skin
A broken-down old relic with no interior within


I'd sit in all the ruins and I'd ponder my fate
Wonder endlessly if it was too late
Would they come find me in my homeless state?
Help to build a new home, with a much better gate?
 

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Ayatollah of Coca-Cola
Joined
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11,718 Posts
Discussion Starter · #3 ·
It's very internally autobiographical in a lot of ways. Mainly the past year and a half.
 
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