Zuh-Day

 -John- That little taste of heaven has got me wanting more Since then there's only been sleepless nights... ::And God, I feel like a whore:: But it was you who came to me that night Although I don't know why The only thing I really know, is it felt so fucking right I want to re-live that feeling of your fingers in my hair But you have a beautiful (yet detached) girlfriend To whom I could NEVER compare I wish we could recreate that night of total ectasy But it's been weeks and you haven't called... So I guess I'll take my place in your "one night" history

 "STONED ANGEL" Teach me to feel love Soothe my every wicked urge *You've slipped into my heart* The thrill of your mouth Makes life matter The taste of your skin Is like drinking night rain And being under you is paradise

 -Wanting- Your lingering scent Of fermented licorice and sweet leaf Makes my heart weep Your touch, an addiction Burning at my soul All I want Is just one chance For unnecessary redemption And for you to make me whole

 Late Night Propaganda Goodbye Bacardi silver, My heart will go on. Because that same feeling is available in a car, even if you've never had a ballpark named after you. Plus there's soft rock with less talk. It's only one degree of separation, five seamless ways, and no telemarketing. Besides, nothing is colder than ice. Whenever you want, you can wake up and drive, do something different. Come on, thirty more seconds on the long and winding road, don't let this one get away. Ever get the feeling that at least you still have some money in your pocket? Or at least you dream in Rated R?

 -Pixies of Perfection- Pixies of perfection How I loathe them! To snap their delicate wings and crush their fragile bones Would be sheer pleasure! Shave their pixie heads and scar their flawless skin Oh what a joy it'd be! Let them feel pain and loneliness Their horrified screams music to my ears

Hot-Boxing My Soul Sittin' in my room by myself, Smokin' a fat joint, Anymo' these days, Wonder what's the point? Well I can still blaze' An' I can still get high But anymo' these days, I still wonder why. I got me a purple bong, His name is Bob, Supportin' my habit, Is my daily job. Spendin' all my money, Tokin' out ma bong, Got nuthin' better to do, Then smoke all day long. When I walk around stoned, People wonder what I'm on, So I finally tell them, I tell them its chron. Grab myself a nug, And a wet resin ball, Oh god I'm so high, I'm bouncin' off the wall. Grab my little pipe, Pack another bowl, I'm blazin' it