At the threshold of the day,

I complained of the records you played

Unforgivable were the sounds

Of the shit that you blared from the house

And I guess I was just shaken from the rage

Hard fisted, pissed, tired and feathered

Freshly escapen from the cage

And I guess you were just searching for something to say

You were smelling medicinal, juggling the daggers

That I tried to hide away

Along with the sultry pictures

That never once met my unholy demands

The slings and hammers that you've collected

The poisonous arrows and happiness found in an axe

The sweet, tranquil end of the day

Was sodden with liquor, in conditional anger we lie

Under fluorescent stars stuck to the ceiling

Your custom made universe, as we take to the sky