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Drifters
I hate the drifters
That come from city to city
Hole to hole
They just come here to steal, absorb and conquer

They dig their trenches
And bury us in our flooded redness
Beat
And felt up like a hell-hole
Of under represented
Not respected twenty-eights

Drifters
Those fuckers
The nerve of them
Giving me unordered spinal-taps
Making me have oral condensation
Listening to star

They come and go
Travel on
But I donąt need them
Or you
Because you abused
You used
You are a drifter

I hate those drifters
In and out they come
They never stay a while
For a cup of english tea
They take away our teddy bears
No try-ons, just thiefs

Everyone is like a walking sarcophagus
Filled with freshly read newspapers
They borrow and burrow deep down inside
They donąt get to know
The take and never give

Those drifters
The just spend your money
And waist your time for some delight
And leave out the back door
With your warm towel

Damn drifters.



© 1999 David Greg Harth
99.05.10.02:05:04 @ 296
99.05.11.12:17:28 @ 296
99.05.13.13:32:25 @ 1515