Journeys of A Man

Friday, October 12, 2007


I’m spiting dust
A folding sun
Snake skin
Cracked chin
Broken hand
A soul to mend
Wealth is burned
Time is turned
Bullets and calibers
Summers and winters
Freedom, lonesome, busted thumb
Roadside disaster
Searching for an answer
Burn the fuel
What’s left in the tank
Time to think
Take a drink
Write the ink burn

you almost crashed into me
were you lost in an MP3?
It happened on the freeway...
...I guess your free to kill, and to be killed.
A cracked computer screen...
...the same one I want to put my fist through.
Devils and angels.
I don't have many friends.
But Myspace says I have a ton.
Friends are just hard to come by these days.
But that's okay...because they don't come along everyday.
I'm tired of sports. Juiced up thieves waiting for a release.
I don't even have time to sit in the sun...
...too chained to the cubicle near the window.
...slow burn

Saturday, October 06, 2007


take your money and give yourself a hand
I'll take the microphone and sing with the band
you forget I won't regret
the way that time was spent