Jabberwocky
Frumious Bandersnatch
Memories are funny, they can lie, make you smile, or send you into therapy:
I remember being hungry, always hungry, always have been
Hungry for knowledge
Hungry for life and all the lessons it holds for me
And at times just hungry
It’s always cold here.
There is never enough warmth
always overcastted.
A handful of people walk the streets,
bussing themselves with there humdrum chores and boring errands.
Silhouetted in gray they all look the same, all are targets for me.
Now I know what you’re thinking a target is only for a predator but the cold makes you do strange things
I pace through the weaving streets of this desolate town
eyes always on the road.
The pavement is dark
never forgiving.
But I cant look up
cant be seen
cant be caught
People pass me by never notice me never bother to try.
I rationalize that its there fault that I shouldn’t feel guilty
A bump, a flick of the wrist and im up 20 dollars
I can live another day, if you call this living
I play a game most days.
Its kind of like Prozac for the soul
I’m Robin Hood and Im doing these people a great service.
Robbing form the rich and all that sort
But deep inside I know what im doing.
My brain never lets me forget…always whispering the what ifs in the back of my normal thoughts.
“I’m sorry dear but grandma didn’t buy you anything for Christmas because her wallet was stolen”
“kids well have to make due with potatoes for dinner again until my next check”
But its something to help me digest the food I just pinched.
Another day another buck fifty I think walking to the outskirts of town where I live
Now entering San Juan Batista, all tourist welcome, says the sign
I smirk and say
Yes, thank you
-phil-
[ 23 January 2002: Message edited by: liquidphil1 ]
I remember being hungry, always hungry, always have been
Hungry for knowledge
Hungry for life and all the lessons it holds for me
And at times just hungry
It’s always cold here.
There is never enough warmth
always overcastted.
A handful of people walk the streets,
bussing themselves with there humdrum chores and boring errands.
Silhouetted in gray they all look the same, all are targets for me.
Now I know what you’re thinking a target is only for a predator but the cold makes you do strange things
I pace through the weaving streets of this desolate town
eyes always on the road.
The pavement is dark
never forgiving.
But I cant look up
cant be seen
cant be caught
People pass me by never notice me never bother to try.
I rationalize that its there fault that I shouldn’t feel guilty
A bump, a flick of the wrist and im up 20 dollars
I can live another day, if you call this living
I play a game most days.
Its kind of like Prozac for the soul
I’m Robin Hood and Im doing these people a great service.
Robbing form the rich and all that sort
But deep inside I know what im doing.
My brain never lets me forget…always whispering the what ifs in the back of my normal thoughts.
“I’m sorry dear but grandma didn’t buy you anything for Christmas because her wallet was stolen”
“kids well have to make due with potatoes for dinner again until my next check”
But its something to help me digest the food I just pinched.
Another day another buck fifty I think walking to the outskirts of town where I live
Now entering San Juan Batista, all tourist welcome, says the sign
I smirk and say
Yes, thank you
-phil-
[ 23 January 2002: Message edited by: liquidphil1 ]
