It Can Always Be Worse

Deep throaty powerful baritone male voice, most pleasurable music in happy key, electronic folk

V5.5

It can always be worse…

Oh it could be me drowning in a happy sea
Getting high on happy fumes in my hopeful room 
Throwing dirt in my pain free eyes that keep absorbing lies 
I could be drying off with a black towel 
That’s scrapes my back like a mason trowel 
Drying out my skin with the sickness I’ve let in 
Staying up all night trying to fight the noise 
Even surrounding my stupid self  with all these toys 
I just can’t shut out the noise

It can always be worse…

I could be reminding my stupid self from the back of a sad Hearst
Hitching a free ride to to the best part of my dim life
The one I gladly ended the day I took it with a sharp knife 
Proving that a depressing poem 
Doesn’t afford the attention 
Of the self loathing the writer begins to mention

It can always be worse…

It can always be worse..

I could be polishing the mirror till it shows someone else
Someone who actually likes the face staring back
Brushing my teeth with the paste of “you’re fine”
While the cavities of doubt keep eating the line
Putting on the cologne of “nobody cares”
And walking out the door into air that still stares
Coming home later to the same quiet walls
That never once asked if I was okay at all
 Oh oh oh it could be worse..

2174/7500

I draw a hot sorrow bath In my despair room with a misery candle burning I wash my hair with regret shampoo after cleaning myself with pain soap I dry myself with my gorgeous white One hundred percent and it will never change towel Then smooth on my I don’t deserve lotion and I hate myself face cream. Then I put on my alone again silk pajamas and go to sleep when the hue has gone blue and you cant quite grin and bear it let this word picture remind you. It can always be worse… Oh it could be me drowning in a happy sea Getting high on happy fumes in my hopeful room Throwing dirt in my pain free eyes that keep absorbing lies I could be drying off with a black towel That’s scrapes my back like a mason trowel Drying out my skin with the sickness I’ve let in Staying up all night trying to fight the noise Even surrounding my stupid self with all these toys I just can’t shut out the noise It can always be worse… I could be reminding my stupid self from the back of a sad Hearst Hitching a free ride to to the best part of my dim life The one I gladly ended the day I took it with a sharp knife Proving that a depressing poem Doesn’t afford the attention Of the self loathing the writer begins to mention It can always be worse… I draw a hot sorrow bath In my despair room with a misery candle burning I wash my hair with regret shampoo after cleaning myself with pain soap I dry myself with my gorgeous white One hundred percent and it will never change towel Then smooth on my I don’t deserve lotion and I hate myself face cream. Then I put on my alone again silk pajamas and go to sleep when the hue has gone blue and you cant quite grin and bear it let this word picture remind you. Let it remind you It can always be worse.. I could be polishing the mirror till it shows someone else Someone who actually likes the face staring back Brushing my teeth with the paste of “you’re fine” While the cavities of doubt keep eating the line Putting on the cologne of “nobody cares” And walking out the door into air that still stares Coming home later to the same quiet walls That never once asked if I was okay at all Oh oh oh it could be worse..

0/500