Stuck Pig By GlassJaw
lay down in this latrine in nail-bomb,
in the city of Molotov,
in the province of gun,
in a hole off the highway in the land of two suns.
and sometimes I grow pissed when my blow goes like a quickie in the snow
but i’m sure i’ll go down inside.
i chew the thorn when midnight gets too long
on the feet of a dragon.
alone in the sun for sticking it in too long.
the seed of a bastard.
some night’s the wind pipe’s covered in dope.
i pray it be covered in a rope.
me, me, me.
grief, grief, grief.
beat the heat.
push her in the snow fuck.
the dope fiend splashes gash like a nailbomb.