viewtopic.php?f=24&t=106202
I'm sittin' in this empty room,
sniffin' fumes, eatin' the caps off of 'shrooms,
cuttin' the phalangies off of you, lickin' the tempting salivating pools,
of blood off the floor, the oh so cold ridged floor,
heard the slam of the door, stood up to see if it was that whore,
with the broken vocal cords, from the result of last night's horrid,
altercation and incident, I come to find her looking innocent, looking at me like I'm wrongfully pissed
I charge at her with the force, of a roided up crazy horse,
hit her in the head with scorching hot oven pan, and cubert drawers,
she hits the ground so hard, her tits flew up out her puss,
hit my mom in the head like a bullet from a forty-four,
that really set me off so I kneed her a charlie horse,
she starts screamin' more, but she forgets about her vocal cords,
bein' broken, so now I'm token, eatin' leftovers from Chipotle,
while I sit back and comfortly enjoy the,(pernounce "they")
ambient noise of choked up screams and the fresh smell of phalangies,
bitch wonder how I made ya dumb,
I took your infant trachea, and tied it into fifty knots,
punched it up your swollen throat right up into your ce-re-brum,
it got lodged somewhere between the temporal lobe and callosum,
now your speech is becoming very fucking cumbersome,
I try to overcome and not succumb to your collage of scum,
so I start to hum a song from that movie with Megan Fox and Shia LaBeouf,
I hum it for so long that my mind tells me that that's enough,
but I tell my mind to mind it's own fucking business and cut it off,
now my mind's shut off, and instincts decisively start to take over,(ovah)
I run across the hall, and try to take defensive cover,(covah)
from the crazy damn fairies that are flying after me,
are they real, or are they the product of those methaphetamines?
that I have been swallow-ing, for the past slow-moving seventeen,
hours of the insane day, and now thoughts try to enter my brain,
but my brain setup those pesky impenetrable barricades,
I am hoping but inside I know that there is no way,
for those thoughts to enter inside of my dead thoughtless brain,
so now I push those thoughts away, and start to run away from Freddy,(Fuh-readay)
the assholes got a blade, and I come to find that I'm in a dream,
there's nothing I can do, so I contemplate ways to handle this tragedy,(trageday)
should I lay down and start to pray and become the prey like a pussy?(pussay)
no, I will not subject myself to such scrutiny, I start to run at Freddy as if I am the predator,
he lacks the knowledge of my becoming that roided up crazy horse,
I tackle him so hard that he begins to pee himself,
I tell him to look down and look what he has done to himself,
I took that quick split second, and kicked him in his bloody nuts,
he crunches down in agony while I start to run away from him,
this is the exact reason, that my ass needs to be locked up,
'cause I can take this story and turn it into a mil-li-on
What do you guys thinks? I tried to be more creative with this, rather then talking or rhyming about a "typical day, or event".