I’m pulling at the skin on my thumb’s side
It’s nice to destroy things and self-abuse
Much easier than building up my pride
Much easier than winning. Why not lose?
Distractions, reveries are what we choose
Life’s painless if you aim less high, a slow
And pleasant suicide, room with no views
Except grey sky, on tenth floor; needles go
Straight to the point (Lou Reed’ll tell you so)
Cover your face with veil again, sad bride
For shame that you can’t be a genius
Your name unknown even at home, and no
Direction to roll in but stone. We tried
Now we’re sliding into time’s tightening noose
Sun 28 Sep 2008
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