Week 4, 2017

The old year is over! And I'm still coming in for closure.
New things going down I have new things at my disposal,
Old things going over like old toast out the disposer,
And I still don't like to program but I write things in Composer.
No loaf no - I'm gluten-free and try not to be a loafer.
I eat only the good stuff, food stuff stay sober and kosher,
If your flame's hot I'll roast her cause I'm on fire I don't need no clothes sir.
I'm going I'm going I wonder if I'm coming closer...

(I am... the only one. The lonely one, at night with headphones clad: the phoney one. I live at home because I am the homely one. If you don't know me, well then you don't owe me none. 2x)

The old year is OVER! Why can't I just accept it?
Bits running on my system and I got bits of regret stuck in my throat, like fish sticks,
A step back from the steppe bliss. I look around but... I can't see the exit.
I walked around in a mist today feeling I was objective,
Seeing things in the distance you wouldn't expect - like old ghosts,
Like foes in old clothes floating around like mofos.
Then I got back and upgraded my mobos.
I have three and two are all show. One is office stuff one is gaming - get me some coleslaw.
You won't look in awe if you walk in and see me hunched in the bathrobe,
That's just how I dress when I'm at home.
I'm cozy. I got my computer and I got a candle and I got wool socks,
Cause someone said bad dudes don't dress in sandals...

(I am... the only one. The one and only, the one who knows he will become the only sun, the one to shine bright like Novocaine, you know the flame, you know that when I start to fizzle and die I'll rise and grow again! 2x)

I'm the Phenix. Like the New Year I die so bury me.
But not to deep because I'll rise as soon as the birds stir.
Let spring come to this porch first, sun setting the world ablaze,
And then I'll rise again from this Scorched Earth!
2016 was good. 2016 was bad. 2016 was something I'll never have, again...
But it was something I had, it was a bump and a laugh,
It was an abundance of wrath, is was mundane like math,
It was Sunday's and summer but also Mondays and that,
Is all that will ever pass. At last...

(I am... the unholy one. I'm the devil the demon the throned with horns hanging off my hair like unicorn horns off of branches, but I'm not the demon you need to vanquish. You've got that one won in you, you've got that inner anguish. You've got that inner demon eating, sawing seeds in you until they grow like gangrene, and choke you and as you strangle you let out a sigh instead of a blank scream.)

(I am... the only one. The lonely one, at night with headphones clad: the phoney one. I live at home because I am the homely one. If you don't know me, well then you don't owe me none.)

I am.