A Translation of Mean:

Posted by Tallon Fassi on November 19th, 2008 filed in Rants

The smoke curled, a thousand cream serpent tongues.  

We spat words that had weight and

hypothetically tested pre-calculated fates.

I pressed my fingers over the keys,

Felt ill from the radiation disease, American ease.

 

My mother, whom I admire was disturbed.

“My father’s on his dead bed, Tal”

No curing herb?

 

Dying alone with no memories in his head,

I’d rather be dead.

When all the chips are on the table,

Life’s just a fable,

Don’t trust me just consult Able.

 

Winding back in, I loosen grin,

Arching my neck, its all an attempt

To keep on my porcelain mask.

  

The city dances in movable parts,

Alone against the world,

You put a puncture in my heart.

 

But Thank God people are cruel,

I caught some lessons being Love’s Fool.

Trying to make me look like a tool?

You know what, Fungu!

Feeling guilty is a principle sensation

Cupid should write You a serious citation.

My heart is burning, and You’re a

Three legged Dalmatian.

Don’t laugh this is a serious affirmation.    

 

We conducted uneducated debate,

Your time was precious,

‘Sorry! Master to make you wait.’

From now on I’ll masturbate.