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Cannonball Statman
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Evil Twin Thunder
I've got a problem with your mind.
I've got a skeleton;
it's mine.
I've got a shadow in my room.
I've got a memory,
but I'll forget it soon;
and in the entrance to your house,
you held an artifact from the past.
It was August, in the year of the Ox,
and photography was
the form of art.
Right before I met thunder,
my soul went numb.
Talked to lots of doctors;
no one could figure out what went wrong.
My soul knew
in the next two weeks,
it was gonna die;
went under anesthesia, said:
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'Fuck you! Goodbye.
You're living in the darkness;
living with no way out.
Another person they can't
control; another blood draw gone wrong.
You've got the disease!'
I've got a limit on my time,
and a mosquito; it loves to whine.
I've got a shadow of a door
leading into the window inside the floor.
And above the blue part of the floor,
there was a shit stain on the back of the door.
And I was staring
into space, with
long, flowing black
hair in my face.
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