Why do you message me sometimes?
There's nothing further to say or hear,
Or read or write, no irrelevant rhymes.
You know the future is totally clear.

Where the hell do you think I'll go?
There's no smiling queue of pale beauty
For the lazy idiot punching low
Into the groin of reality.

How the fuck can you give me that
Bullshit hope for a counterfeit dream?
You'll need to prioritise, start to extract
A sewer of slimy fat to be clean.

What on earth would you save me for?
There's no place here for any of me.
I've a space reserved in the invisible war
Between the past and reality.