LosBastardos

In the end, I'm just looking for some fun. You know the kind I'm talking about. the newscasters call for justice; the people call for delivery. I got a little sin for sale. Rails of Coke. Pussy Ass and Tits. All to the clang of electric guitars. I got niggars in my teeth. Somebody throw me a fucking bone. A hell of a lot can go unnoticed if you got the right tools for the job. I am a piller of salt, and you'll never be worse than me.  I'm 10% freak, 90% nature, triple distilled.  I'm all the volume you'll ever need. You get up and go. I got up and went. Your tools are for th making, but mine are for the breaking. Made in the Divided States

think free....                before it becomes illegal          breathe fresh air....                                                 before you have to pay for it                                  eat a piece of fruit....      while it still grows on trees and vines  hug your best friend....                            before they are given a gun                                 smile for the camera....                                before all the photographs are burned                                                      make a wish on a shooting star....                      while you can still see the sky          

She holds her finger out straight, pointing dramatically at the sun rising over open country. There is a momentary rush of wind that carries the fragrence of honey suckle roses through my senses. I can feel the early morning dew spot and speckle the hairs on my cheek. This day may be better left a memory, or a love note title anotomous. It may be better off a bubble with a few seconds left to scream before it dies. I wonder why she smiles. Her finger still out straight, still aimed at the dawn,"Does this belong to God?" she says it with her eyes. "Does he need to see us here? Does this all belong to God? If not this then what... and where?"

 See them as they run.    So many racing rabbits,              In this Audobon.                                                              For me and this gun,                                                      Forever's a cold shoulder.                                                                   Better leave it be.                           This old girl is blue.                                        A neon perception lost,                                                                   To the revelry. A baby bubble, Has only a few seconds, To scream before death.                                       The be