Smoke

I throw change out my window,
It lands at the feet of a charcoal dog.
As it strikes the pavement, it changes.
Instead of money to buy food, there lie pills.

Despite the objectives of the origin,
The pills are accepted as if more than money.
I eat leather cases, and shiny metal.
There before me lies the pistol I choked on, haha.

Julia and Romaine can shoot themselves.
I am not interested in the production.
Suicide lovers, well at least they’re free.
I am busy drawing birds with my words.

So, I have no lens, and I have no brush.
I spend no money, and smoke no cigarettes.
I need no mess, and no paint need be spilled.
Am I not an artist then? A yoyo could answer that.

Shade my thoughts, and pinch my tongue.
It seems to be getting hotter with each breath.
If only I had learned some respect from father.
I’d be less of a jackass with my loudness, alright alright?

I'm not emotional, I just have feelings.
I can't help but fall when you lead me forward,
And then move out from in front of me.
Que sara sara, and I keep my hands in my pockets.