Tired of going to the bars,
going to the mall, going very far.
Give me a new mind and an old computer,
the biggest microchip that the world can order.
Don’t need this, don’t need that,
just need to give in to die on purpose.
Don’t need no purpose.
Manic posturing only gets you so far,
gonna get drunk and bum around the bar.
write nothing on paper, type every word in order.
Think of something clever, empty endeavors.
Nineteen eighty started thirty years ago,
nihilism, coke and gin, all the good times I missed.
I’m a new mind in a new millennium, and I lack potential.
Just typing down my jitters, with moist eyes.
In 2020, my brain will be fried.
Find a new job before I die, social security–
such a fucking lie. Give in to die on purpose.
Don’t need no purpose.
Don’t need no purpose.
writing bullshit for the sake of writing is fun, try it sometime.
