Pain can be a dastardly villain constantly lurking in the shadows waiting for it's limelight moment.
I'm no actor but I'm no fool when my ticket's number is pulled. No matter how hard you try you can't explain pain only feel it.
Sure a simple "Ouch" gives subtle clues but it's a real game changer when the big "fuck!" boys come out to play.
From beginner to expert. Two people reading different paragraphs are now on the same verbal page.
Fuck means business.
You better believe it fucking hurts and Mr. Rogers ain't got nothin' on Mr. Fuck. There's no sweaters and puppets it's more like searing surges on rapid fire.
I'm 32 going on 80. The world labels me with a numbered commemoration while my body begs to differ.
There's 24 hours in a day and 365 days in year. I'm living each hour of every day, you do the math.
Mr. Fuck's always eagerly standing on my doorstep and today he made an un-welcomed cameo.
He sat back sipping on his whiskey and waiting for the right moment. That bastard found it. I could have strangled His cynical neck had I not just suffered His wrath.
Now my night's agenda's gone stale and heating pads and Motrin are now what's left. My Almond Joy became a Mound and this Fucking Pain has made me coco-nutty.
I'm no actor but I'm no fool when my ticket's number is pulled. No matter how hard you try you can't explain pain only feel it.
Sure a simple "Ouch" gives subtle clues but it's a real game changer when the big "fuck!" boys come out to play.
From beginner to expert. Two people reading different paragraphs are now on the same verbal page.
Fuck means business.
You better believe it fucking hurts and Mr. Rogers ain't got nothin' on Mr. Fuck. There's no sweaters and puppets it's more like searing surges on rapid fire.
I'm 32 going on 80. The world labels me with a numbered commemoration while my body begs to differ.
There's 24 hours in a day and 365 days in year. I'm living each hour of every day, you do the math.
Mr. Fuck's always eagerly standing on my doorstep and today he made an un-welcomed cameo.
He sat back sipping on his whiskey and waiting for the right moment. That bastard found it. I could have strangled His cynical neck had I not just suffered His wrath.
Now my night's agenda's gone stale and heating pads and Motrin are now what's left. My Almond Joy became a Mound and this Fucking Pain has made me coco-nutty.
