Troubles,
I know troubles,
Troubles are what i know best,
Not the kind, that make you a rebel
just the kind that make you depressed
Confidential conversations
spoken without hesitation,
half a decibal above silently
violently or quietly,
i invite the men sighingly,
everyone confides in me.
Like a dirty sponge soaking up the misery of the world,
i guess someone's gotta wipe that filthy mouth.
An ugly sponge heavy full of dirt and ugly words
and its about, to wring me out.
Well i used to have bigger ears and more years to see the tears,
and to hear the fears of my fellow man,
Now-a-days the opposite, i think most folks are full of shit
and find it hard to give a good goddamn.
Like a dirty sponge soaking up the misery of the world,
i guess someone's gotta wipe that filthy mouth.
An ugly sponge heavy full of dirt and ugly words
and its about, to wring me out.
Wring me out and get me clean,
in a metophorical washing machine,
with kerosene, bleach and alcohol.
I'm constipated with this hatred,
if i was God i would have made it,
impossible to speak or hear at all.
Like a dirty sponge soaking up the misery of the world,
i guess someone's gotta wipe that filthy mouth.
An ugly sponge heavy full of dirt and ugly words
and its about, to wring me out.