Recycled Carbon from the Past

Recycled carbon from the past,

I’m just altered a bit.

Shed my skin like a snake,

I guess I’m having a fit.

I need a change of pace,

Like the blood I spit.

I just found a new blade,

We’re in court, take a pic.

I don’t mean to sound dark; I just have to get the thoughts out,

I’d really rather die, I get inside and turn the lights out,

Burn me to the ground, but you better blow my stack out,

If they spin me back up, then I’m coming like a bloodhound.

I don’t know,

Why I feel this,

Turncoat,

I’m ambivalent.

Caught somewhere between the border, my feelings are like a hoarder,

Nobody sees my horror, someone summon the coroner,

I’ll prob’bly head to Florida, even though I’m a northerner,

Just looking for that cocahina,

Find me a cute el nina,

I’d rather die with my blood intoxicated, long ‘fore I die naked,

Took my time to think it over, but the time’s racing.

Barely living except for my own body’s shaking,

This is my last note before I blow my dome’s ignition,

Trigger finger itching, for my blood I’m wishing.