By The Drop
Strung out in suburbia,Living by the drop,
A rig full of herion,
Slowly yields its crop,
Just another journey now,
Floating in the clouds,
Come on CC Rider,
You call his name loud,
You found yourself a sticker,
Holding it like gold,
Your veins are all hiding,
From their heavy load,
You continue with speaking,
Stating just two points,
One is making good sense,
One just disappoints,
Will you go on forever,
Living this same way,
Or will your point of life,
Slowly dissapate?
Poetry by Justin
Read 589 times
Written on 2009-05-15 at 16:18
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