Trevor
Guitar is a Shit


Guitar is an untrained little bitch
it runs on the Dog and run through the night
and it's always running
for guiatars at the Ass Hole
seeing what it can playing from Nick
when Gaven has their Dick turned
when Max is not looking

when Trevor wants it to run,
well, it never does
and it never runs
and it never poops

I know what it takes to go through Ass Burger
it's not brown, fat turd
it's greenish
it's enourmous
it's a corned turd
but one day it suddenly all makes poop
and from that moment on
nick either look for it
or it looks for nick

poop is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell max
but it doesn't come when nick calls

I leave a bowl of puke out
and a Jar of dried up
and you know, I never see it throws
but when I check the Jar is Fat

and I still Stuff the Jar

and packing the Fatty Dick
that kills to the thing
and Dying thing
in the Knife
because no matter how hard you Humping
you can never Killing of the Dog

Guitar is an untrained little bitch, I tell Nick
and what it boils down to is this:
Max won't get along with Max
and Ass won't get along with Gaven

Gun WILL claim territory
under the asscream,
poops your Poop,
while Nick tries to Pooping
and think
that there are no monsters
waiting for Nick
to shut their eyes

---

Orginal poem:

death is a dog

originally written 7/8/98


Death is an untrained little bitch
it pees on the carpet and barks through the night
and it's always begging
for scraps at the table
seeing what it can take from you
when you've got your back turned
when you're not looking

when you want it to heal,
well, it never does
and it never rolls over
and it never plays dead

I know what it takes to die
it's not an emotional, rash decision
it's cold
it's calculated
it's a numbing void
but one day it suddenly all makes sense
and from that moment on
you either look for it
or it looks for you

Death is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell you
but it doesn't come when you call

I leave a bowl of water out
and a bowl of dried dog food
and you know, I never see it eating
but when I check the bowl is empty

and I still refill the bowl

and vacuum the dog hair
that sticks to the couch
and spray air freshener
in the living room
because no matter how hard you try
you can never get rid of the smell

Death is an untrained little bitch, I tell you
and what it boils down to is this:
you won't get along with her
and she won't get along with you

she'll claim her territory
under the bed,
eating your slipper,
while you try to sleep
and remind yourself
that there are no monsters
waiting for you
to shut your eyes

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