drinks a bottle of Chianti
dives into Danté
he talks like cocaine, on a bench in the rain
he says 'Listen close to my lies'
our 'Friends' are as silent as spies
he's still attached to that world of hate,
the platitudes flake from his skin, so fake,
no we won't talk to him about our fate.
words are disguise, they hide and forsake
a stop-at-home boy, playing with toys,
- try to shoot me down, now go ahead.
you don't have a clue so you make a noise
out of sight and sound you're good as dead.
I drink a bottle each day, the best Moet
(you, have an ugly-face}
now go away
here come the clouds, right over your head,
you severed a link, and lost a friend
I don't think you heard, when they said
life is a jewel but I'll keep cool
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