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Squeezing the Damp Tea Towel to Its Final Few Drips

de Crywank

Many moons of moping over changes I won't make
My motor mouth runs from fear of making more mistakes
Implicate myself through false guilt and voice breaks
Jilted speech, inspecting feet, waiting for an answer you are
But me sway silently staring into space, safe place, headspace
Hardly, cerebral argie-bargie
Contemplating harder than when you're sat alone at a party
Maybe not, come happen these knots

Many tangents gallop, maggot dragon dripping in smegma
Fragments of stagnant talent, the advent of forgetting passion
Pageant queen come happen a magnet, drift baggage
Find only a planet of absence

Abscess on your gadget or garment
More substance in silence
Remind me not to write again

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