If She asks me why i chose to die this way
If She wants to know why i could live no more
If She asks me why i did not choose a better way
If She wants to know why i got frail and freaky
I will tell her, i will tell God why
I will tell God why I silently sat weak and shaking
I will tell God how fear became so overwhelming
I will tell God when attacks of seizure became me
I will tell God where the thought of death all began
For sure God will want to know
And as I pass past St. Peter of this popular myth
I will look him in the eye and excuse myself
For I want to only speak to God herself
And explain this feeling in uncensored words
Certainly God must give me a woman-to-woman minute
But while I impatiently await that moment
I will cross the road at the red traffic light
Hoping some drunk hates me as much as his hangover
And in a momemnt of pity looks at me without looking
and with his long and wide truck loaded with steel
Scatters my brain by the sidewalk and slowly drives off
And if God asks me why, i will tell her
Monday, April 11, 2011
Semen on Seventh
While in the chill of Joburg's winter you now daily coil
cuddling in the imaginary arms of the partner only in your mind
Melville's 7 De Laan refuses to sleep with the rest of you
And in the thick of the night in the midst of half-closed eyes
Penises go on a voyage shedding off their usual ugliness
Standing erect competiting only with the straightness of the equator
And while you sit there hot water bottle on ur back
coffee mug in ur arm while the other caresses your thermo pillow
Listening to late night news which now sound the same since the last FIFA official left
While the newsreader tells us the price of crude oil like we care to think of its refined other
and monotonously emphasizes the strength of the rand against the Euro
Someone on Seventh is being deeply sexed
Well at some point sex tires of masquerading as love
Or else tell me how hungry people can make love on a pavement in winter
By now I know a homeless man's semen in the cracks by the pavement
Next time you see me just ask me how
cuddling in the imaginary arms of the partner only in your mind
Melville's 7 De Laan refuses to sleep with the rest of you
And in the thick of the night in the midst of half-closed eyes
Penises go on a voyage shedding off their usual ugliness
Standing erect competiting only with the straightness of the equator
And while you sit there hot water bottle on ur back
coffee mug in ur arm while the other caresses your thermo pillow
Listening to late night news which now sound the same since the last FIFA official left
While the newsreader tells us the price of crude oil like we care to think of its refined other
and monotonously emphasizes the strength of the rand against the Euro
Someone on Seventh is being deeply sexed
Well at some point sex tires of masquerading as love
Or else tell me how hungry people can make love on a pavement in winter
By now I know a homeless man's semen in the cracks by the pavement
Next time you see me just ask me how
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