Poetry
I Don't Remember Dreaming Pop Radio Sucks
It's dark in here without your light
I stretch and groan and blink
Lift the shades and rub the eyes
Remove the sleep from them
I know for sure I slept alone
But strangely enough, I don't remember dreaming.
Radio on, coffee's brewing, getting ready for the day
Slip into a shower and shake the laziness
Lay my clothes out on the bed, now cold.
I gaze slowly around the room and think
I know for sure I slept alone
But strangely enough, I don't remember dreaming.
Work all day, a chore, a bore
Home again to an empty heart
The world is ever lonely without you here
I struggle, sigh, trying not to cry,
I know for sure I'll sleep alone
But strangely enough I won't remember dreaming.
I can't get away
The sounds are everywhere you go
Britney and Christina, Backstreet and N'Sync
All on every radio.
Pop radio sucks
But no one can get enough
My ears are bleeding
My head is teeming
No way to shut it out.
Everyone's a sheep
We all sway and move to the beat
The lyrics get in your head
Almost makes you wish you were dead
Pop radio sucks
But no one can get enough
My ears are bleeding
My head is teeming
No way to shut it out.
It's the next fad that won't go away
All the songs sound the same
All wanting us to shake our "thang" and "step to the right"
We dance late into the night
Pop radio sucks
But no one can get enough
My ears are bleeding
My head is teeming
No way to shut it out.
An ordinary day
A family portrait
All the small things
When will it end?
Pop radio sucks
But no one can get enough
My ears are bleeding
My head is teeming
No way to shut it out.
Holding Up the Sex Bank
No one can say I'm to blame
I just need it all the time
All I do is call him up
And soon he's yelling my name.
He says he wants to love me
All I want to do is play
I'm holding up the sex bank
Making it all a game
It's 3am and I'm alone
I call you up to get it on
You always groan and pitch a fit
Til I'm on top and riding it
He says he wants to love me
All I want to do is play
I'm holding up the sex bank
Making it all a game
Don't fret and whine about it
No one likes a quitter
Let's leave things as they are
It will all work out for the better
He says he wants to love me
All I want to do is play
I'm holding up the sex bank
Making it all a game
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Darkpoet's Garden of Poems
Liam Murray, A dear friend and kindred spirit.


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