and then there was us

Its for all of you out there...all of you who have stood by me and supported me, the culmination of all the years of tears and sweat. I sit here on the eve of what feels like an eternity and my mind races and flesh tingles, like the moment before the electricity strikes the earth and leaves it changed. My thoughts turn to my brothers and my family and my friends and all those who have loved and lost and found and forgot; the ones that screamed and punched at thin air just to hit something, i think of all of these people and i sit and wait. the burning is intense and my life all comes rushing at me, blood to the hands and feet and chest, blood that wasn't there before...its dark and intense and poisoned. i limp and sweat and stare at the imperfections in the paint and think of those who put the imperfect paint on this imperfect wall and just scowl and squint my eyes and think....fall back, deeper and deeper....you didn't love me until recently, until i was something that you could hang on your wall or place your hand so high up onto my shoulders and say 'thats my boy'......'thats my boy, thats ma' boy, atta boy...tell the boy to come here...come here boy....' i was a child named boy until i was 22...a man named boy....the guts melt and feel battered and cancered...slow and painful almost. it was not drink that made me, rather drink that preserved the boy, preserved him in a deep special reserve bottle, you cant recognize his face due to the thick glass and the way it distorts reality and perception, but maybe thats just the booze talking...isn't that right old man? old man...it pains you to look into my mothers eyes doesnt it, that constant reminder. well fuck you! you hear me!? you fucking hear me!? i was the one who made it here and i know where im from and maybe i lost sight of that...jump high, play hard-jump high, play hard-jump high, play hard...just echoes now, echoes of something i never really had

not sure about the neon

I think people are talking shit about me in my sleep...calling me crazy and dreaming of texting people and telling them off because for some reason i have the inability to speak out loud. as phil collins and bone thugs said 'take...take me home because i dont remember' burning the fat off my soul perrequest of mr. H and brother scotty - the countdown to doomsday is in full effect and the world will end in those nights in the fresh spring air of STL - let the coke parties and strippers with toys join us and we'll just buy them drinks and tell them to wear something nice to the outting and never mention they strip, but randomly have them produce dildos like sexual illusionists...invite david coppefield perhaps