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Julian Osterman Julian Osterman
Recommendations: 3

Andar Inseguro Muerto


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This writing contains explicit content and is only for adults. You have been warned.

Editor's Note: "Football season is over" is the suicide note left by Hunter S. Thompson. As such, I wish to note that my inclusion of it here is out of respect and admiration for the great Doctor, and I wish only the best for his friends and family. I hope my use of his words do not cause ill feelings in anyone.


I : THE FIRST NIGHT IN BOSTON


To walk uncertain dead
To feel a prickly joy
To tremble in our hallow sleep
And feel contemptuous coy


Laughter


A cavalcade of broken dreams
In which broken children laugh
And sorrow is a mistress sweet
Who will drown us in the bath
Tomorrow shall never bring
That which comes today
And upon the walls so white
On which our blood shall spray
In broken hearts and broken dreams
We dream of milk and honey
Let's cut the head off Donald Trump
And stuff the stump with money
A tunic made of gilded flesh
And unsung lullaby
I'll split your skull with common grace
And mindfuck you in the eye
To drown a town of mortal men
In mortal traps undaunted
And spread the guts upon the land
To find latrines unhaunted
When red is gold and gold is dust
Scattered across the sand
The blackest moon to shine so white
And spit into your hand
In our hearts we merry men
Do laugh as children do
And do go quietly into that night
And sing a violent few


A page is ripped
A boy is kicked
A song is sung
With wounds unlicked
A spoiled clean
And unspoiled dream
To be American and wanting
A knife shoots out from broken gun
An energetic flaunting


When red is gold and black is grey
And madness makes a noise
Broken on our border's porch
Just little kids with toys


II UNHINGING


A page is ripped
The cops got tipped
But when we go down do we go down together?
A page is ripped
The mind has slipped
And I was just so starting to enjoy the weather


Well whether we make it or not
Whether we will or do
Doesn't matter if I give all that I've got
'Cause all I have got is you


And then we realize too late the time has come to unload our guns
And when they finally release the gas I hope enough time has passed
And they'll never suspect it's you
They'll never suspect - they do


A page is ripped
The chamber clicked
Skeletal dancing on the ceiling
The page is gone
The passage wanted
To relay a message to you
Be careful of things you do
Oh they'll never suspect it's true
I put all of my trust in you


Well whether we make it or not
Whether we will or do
Doesn't matter if I give it all that I've got
'Cause all I have got is you


All of my blood's on you


III CLASS WARFARE


Assassin, assassin
How clever is that note you're writing?
Assassin, assassin
How clear are those nights you hum?


We got a white supremacy riot boiling
Over a melting pot of hate
All the Latinos that said
"Never go back"
Now say "it's not too late"
It shouldn't this story bore ya
Chelsea boys screaming
"Niggers go back to Georgia"
Visible discontent
Can we think a little bit cleaner?
Can we hate a little more quietly?
Don't make me take up for what I believe in
My show's on...
Ask me when my show goes off


Assassin, assassin
How clean are those nights you're riding?
Assassin, assassin
How precise are those notes you hum?


The broken children are playing on a broken path
A pitiful drum machine laughter across the seas
A greener stripe of envy than ever before
I don't have to pay the rent, I don't have to care
I could die alone in cellar cells
A dungeon deep in my own bowels
Assassin, assassin
Just what is that note you're writing?
To be the paper or the paste
To lay a vibrant man to waste
It's an error of bad taste
Football season's over, I'll kill you


IV FOOTBALL SEASON IS OVER


Feb 22 '05


Counselor


No More Games.
No More Bombs.
No More Walking.
No More Fun.
No More Swimming.
67.
That is 17 years past 50.
17 more than I needed or wanted.
Boring.
I am always bitchy.
No Fun - for anybody.
67.
You are getting Greedy.
Act your old age.
Relax -
This won't hurt...............................................................................


This is how the world ends
Not with a bang
But a whimper


V OLD RUSTED WIRES


I own a handgun
This is not a threat
I want to kill myself with every waking breath
Another politician preaching unto himself
Just a straw voodoo doll rotting on the shelf
The beautiful and grotesque
So pure and so unclean
If simply don't give a fuck
You know exactly what I mean
I'm on a concrete mission
To blur the wisest lines
And if I find God in the eggshells
I'll be king of mankind
And time
Time
Time
Time will slow
Slow
Slow
And Time
Time
Time
Time will Grow
Grow
Grow
I ain't growing up
I'm burning down
All the obscene vignettes of the past
The suicidal rat in the bath
The genius boy who died by the math
And if you want to get in my path
I'll simply take you out
Then put your sorry ass in my place
And shove an empty gun in your face
And maybe I'll let you go on a date
As long as you don't forget your mace
This time
This time
Go on and riot this fucking time
Go on and vomit this fucking time
Go on and wish luck this fucking time
Go on and pass out this fucking time
Go on and make up this fucking time
Go on and break up this fucking time
Go on and get out this fucking time
Go on and blow up this fucking time
Time
This time
Time


A ballpoint pen
It's my best friend
A swinging noose
Lets friends on the loose


Broken children crowding the street
Forgiving no one and most everything
We'll reach and rejoice with animosity
And curious and curiouser we fly
It's an evolution high
Do you think we're missing God?
Are we aiming low enough?
Are we aiming much too high?
Am I God?


Too tired to sort this out
And function with higher clout
To never say aloud
The distress
Of falling asleep at the wheel
The girl don't know my name
But I refuse to play that game
Let her come after me, no time
Share drinks after all, alcohol
Motor skills have left me just now
Head nodding off to sleep
To be frightened off my dreams
A chaos in my head
To walk uncertain dead...


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