Deadeye Constance ii

funny how honeys love fucking sucking for money consider talking something to do for nothing
until they’re broken and rotten stuck in LA button shirts of drug dealing cousins who warned
working dirty dozen streets of the weak will leave you bent as pretzel sticks just less sweet
how many ways can you slave for pay to say you did something productive today
able to spend it on bills that make you feel like an adult not a member of a cult of hippies shunning living giving up the sacred to the god of love shy away from societal crimes for the love of what was lost but bought with plots of soil to plant the seed of life give us back our greener grass pastures leaving pastors preaching to empty congregations begging building houses for the lord so he can have his pick of places to stay when he visits the world yet the earth is the Lord’s of course, since he owns all these houses till spouses stuck in pouting frownings part ways to never say amen to lay men who never made it in the world but pour out their frustrations in the name of the Lord who bore our pains on the cross so we can slave away another day
how long shall we go for broke to prove that we are smarter than the next guy in playing the game of life
loving honeys who stop talking the moment the well dries and flies fill up what was once a feast cups of wine
poured down the throats of the never quenching thirst belching with heartburn heartache protruding stomachs burning down the sound of town with gas burped pound for pound the biggest heavyweight fight between mind or hand


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