I feel like a caged deamon
drunk and pondering thoughts of suicide
screaming so loud ears bleed and ring
in a harmonis joyful way

the cherry on my cigg stops he rain
i clear the weather
why do i sleep
such sweaty drool

cosuming monday
and swearing tuesday is too long
works a joke so
i smoke every break

i take a three hour lunch to sleep
completing a vicious cycle
that brings another wednesday
im late to work cooking an excuse for thursday

the day i hate the most is friday
the begining of a cycle of the weekend
which will only dissapear in a toilet of vomet
and blood so saturday is the day suicide

is such a stronger urge than sunday
which sleeps the rest of my life into big monday
yes big monday
we kill an entire cow to eat its fleashy meat

folowed by drinking a 40 a piece
and a bottle of rum with 2 liters of coke
yes big monday is the only day to look forward to
so till monday i will sleep away my suicidal tendancies

drink some more till the rain stops
the clouds will break again on tuesday
1:00 the sun will scould my fleash and scare me into another
comma i call my week

this is the pefect time to kill
so i will hide the body next week
maybe monday we will bbq the corpse
rest your ash flesh