Cosmos

Sex and the City
Is why you feel shitty
Plus you done drank up everything in the Cosmos
I saw stacked by your shitter
While you were hitting the one-hitter
At the wrong end of a no-hitter
Bitter
Obliterating yourself, now you wanna hurl
Slow it down, baby girl
Break the blues, make new blueprints, your own plan
Don’t try and be a man, that don’t make us feel good neither
Take a breather
Stop the treadmill
If you wanna get some head, we’ll
Work it out without
Screwing each other over
Aww, who am I kidding?
I’m not a pimp
Just another love gimp
Limping from one sick doctor to another
Getting blue balls
‘Cause no one makes house calls
And to forget about the ouch
I will lie upon the couch
My memories are fed
By the movies in my head
So I need random pictures, war dead,
Something shocking to replace the dread
I feel it too
I’m alone at 32
But still I hear the clock ticking, same as you
When I’m home alone
No one gives this old dog a bone
But it’s later for me than you, and I’m hungry too, so
I’ll head out, a tortoise now, with less than a house on his back, but a pack, just enough to avoid
Being home with the lack
And the panic attack
Slow and steady doesn’t win in the end, sometimes it just leaves you lonely
And as I crawl past the pubs I see you and your girls,
I look up at the cosmos
And laugh
‘Cause you could drink a carafe of it
And you still wouldn’t know the half of it
You’re a giraffe, not an ostrich
Holding your head too high
To get it down in the sand
While I live in the dirt
So it doesn’t hurt
As much
At least when I put on that shell
It saves me from hell
But it keeps out touch as well
Maybe I should shell out some clams for a softer one
But I’m afraid of everyone
Even though I have no basis
I’m all up in your databases
A ghost in your machine
It’s mean
But I’d rather talk about you than me
It hurts less, you see
To see where you go wrong
Than me, I can’t follow along
With my own logic
It’s tragic
But I don’t believe in magic
Putting a stop to this
With a fantasy kiss
I don’t know how to end it
So I’ll just defend it
Trying to be a poet
By writing about your shit
If you wanna be a friend, it’s
Gonna cost you

- Alfonso Mangione, May 14, 2010