Cripple Bastards Ragman
COMMENTARY
Born in your shit, I can't enjoy the colors of grace and beauty,
I can't feel anything but this uniform-unfailing sense of nausea...
"Her eyes... so lovely,
that you're askin' yourself how can tears................................
Her body... so perfect,
that you're askin' yourself how can shit................................."
"Her brain... so empty,
that I'm askin' myself how can thoughts.................................
Her life... so senseless,
that I'm askin' myself how boring should be.........................."
The colors of grace and beauty won't fit in my picture;
diping my brush in your shit I'll paint a life of kicks,
intimidations, self-relegation.
I'm a ragman and I love my putrid clothes
weared out by thousands generations.
You're something worst... corrupted perfection;
the static divinity of perfumed trash.
