![]() |
Song/poem I wrote about someone I saw on the way to work |
| Jagged man, he walk down the street/ Every step a shuffle, but no one else hears the beat/ Twisting legs and a spine of glass/ Each new face looks just like the last/ He wants that shit, that sickly sweet/ Hotter than this July heat/ His skin is crawling, he wants to get well/ Wants a day pass out of this Hell/ Pusherman says "Pay me," though/ So he jacks this girl's bike, that boy's stereo/ Trip to the pawnshop, sign the line above/ Cash in his hand to purchase his one true love/ Somewhere deep down he screams his pain/ As he pats the vein, but his pain's in vain/ Adds on another link to the chain/ That he carries behind him like a train on a dress/ He's a mess, they say he's insane, but who could say/ Jagged man lives day to day/ Living dead, the only way he knows how/ They say his soul's all gone, no hope for him now/ Marching to the music without no band/ Nobody pay no mind to that jagged man/ END |