Dance with the devil to smooth jazz.
A road trip to affinity.
Pray for divine intervention, in this day and age?
I'd have to call you mad..
Drink up your dreams in a smooth cocktail glass.
It had to be you, it had to be me.
I sit and watch 17 year old cokeheads,
and think this is some paradise.
I want to steal the sun from your soul.
Play, big brother, Play.
The jackal's tune plays soft,
as rain pours salt on the kids
eating curb laying in the gutter.
Because we all know when it rains
it pours.
Dad sleeps with an embrace on the latrine,
throwing up resentments and imagining
better days.
The past is the past, the future is indefinite.
Sometimes the kids eat guns, most just
show and tell.
Bullets for breakfast, and money in the closet.
I'm a wreck.
A cataclysm of metal and glass.
The piano picks up tempo,
and satan kicks up the inferno.
Crystal meth cooks under a bridge,
just outside of town.
Let's bury our rifles in the creek and
drink a few. This is my Illinois.
I'll watch with broken eyes as you
twist and squirm for every red cent.
I'm not gonna raise a hand,
just a glass in celebration of the mess
we've made.
She snorts coke at the party of the year.
I wish she was mine.
She's got her hair stuck to her face,
shielding the vomit from her dress.
She's just such a magnificent tragedy,
the queen bee.
Play that stand up again, fatman.
Let the melody of self-destruction,
move me around the room.
A new job, a better life, bastard kids,
cunt wife.
Two good old boys held up the bank
in town square today.
They dream of Seger and the finer things.
I knew them once.
The funeral is in my mouth.
This is my Illinois.
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Submission Name: This is My Illinois
