jojo

i want to be in a motercycle gang gangreen and mean and fucked up all the time. picture me on the back of a harley leather-clad and bad and driving fifty-five. i want to see things i'll never get to see foreign bronze, klingons, naked girls with purple eyes. yeah, look at me - sad and low and lonely - dead-end job, a slob, and fucked up all the time. i'm going nowhere. i'd rather go somewhere instead. i'm gonna blow a hole through the back of my head. don't cry when I say good-byehow's your bell-curve? mine's right-skewed average low. very low. and the river - she has grown very high. fell from the sky. and i'm wasted on cancer and bible school - not like you. yeah, you're wasted, full and drunk from too much rain and pain and anger at tumors like me. if it would make you comfortable, i'd jump out of this tree, or maybe we could get married and be happy. these few words could be the last we ever speak. do you think, maybe, you could love me or like me maybe? maybe you'd look at me, you'd talk to me, we could marry, live in this tree. but it's unlikely. you don't like me, and i don't like me, and it's unlikely.