Written by Crybaby
copyright 2010
I graze through the isles
into my basket all of my eggs seem to be in one
I search through more isles
another marketing scheme to mold into
they say to only shop the outter rim of a grocery store
everything in the middle is garbage and bad
processed and radiated to cause your slow death
my lips roll up on the rim of a hope
my treacherous heart continues wondering
down numbered rows gazing
everything packaged so nicely
A small printed logo
you contain an artificial sweetness
you contain words I can't pronounce
I have to put you back you're bad in someway
I stand all afternoon in a line
flipping through magazines looking for the ideal day
inventing ways to play out time
and almost I think
I need a lighter, I'm craving something
I stood there failing the impulse
pulse stops and I can hardly breathe
knowing what it is you did to me
I collect points
I'm coming back
I'm collecting more points
I keep coming back for more
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