because i love walking in the air so much
and killing ideals of people so much
because i still don’t know if I’m alive
or if im just a concept of time
or if i focused too much on the fucked-up state of life
maybe if i died now it would be a shame
because there’s still much to deal with
more idiots to see when i cross the street
more liquor to consume, more smoke to inhale
there’s always a little bird to watch dying
there’s always a tree to laugh at while it’s falling
much too much to focus on
much too much to laugh about
much taste in mouth that is alternately sweet
alternately bitter, like the wind in my hand
much too much time to waste
much too much money to spend
more jewelry to swallow, more rings to lose
still some engagements to break
i wouldn’t want to die now
because somewhere im still a picturesque gamine
in a picturesque landscape with a bullet between my teeth
with a bullet inside my brain
with a “concept” of the heart
with so many tricks to perfect
and so many spirits left to crush
too hopeless to help, too cruel to bother
heart in a hearst! much too much
of everything, of nothing
of something, of anything or anyhow’s
much too much
televisions to smash and faces to slap
houses to burn, along with some photos
much too much to destroy, much
too much space, too many tormentors
more gaps between teeth to fill
still a lot of suicides to get by
i still want to have much too much
there’s always still time to spend on nothing
still some space to stare into
still a river to watch dry
still a foot to spit on
still an ocean to transfer with a spoon
if i died now it would be a shame
there’s still an ocean
there’s still a spoon
still a need for transfer
of an ocean to the moon
