My life's a mess.
Yeah, messier than my pubes.
Convoluted as my guts
I am complex
I live in intrigue, danger, poverty
Where life is mostly dirrty, raw and only for the present
I am a peasant
Who's only wealth are my dreams woven from cigarette puffs
My ideals remain intact, unwashed as the jeans I've worn for weeks
I am wasted
I see life thru my drunken glazed eyes
Fragmented thoughts of pieced together memories
Dare enter my maze?
Each encounter is a surprise, no expectations
Just pure exploration in the dark.
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