Gregory Isaacs- Sunday morning

(via FFFFOUND! | practical consequences)
not an elvis fan…but this image is dece
shit, why’d you sing that to me bird?
all i can smell about is you, picking me from the garbage,
picking out the garbage from your food.
i think i hate it— if it’s you, berate the empties
chuck the garter from my thigh i think im stupid
and controlling and this lazy when im high
off stuff, i spit up at the rules.
my father’s gone, you bought me numb
now ice the bruise.
im wrong for putting that on you,
why do i see that shit in you?
why cant i see for shit the truth, im fucking
second hand, all used up and confused
with beckoned hands, bird come and fuse.

die antwoord