I became tired of writing anarchistic rants all the time.
Pink knives, headless guitar, hanging bat, and white chords. Middle finger, scratch 'n' sniff, What's Up, Doc, and hot sauce. Pink gluestick, headphone jack, strobe lights, and payroll check. Botany patches, Letter from mom, twisted cords, Batman and Spawn. Reen in blades, pens in cup, bills in folder, isn't life tough. Books on shelf, coat on chair, laces on hook, Burn in air. Light on wall, coke on floor, Reen almost falls, Pi on door. Phones around neck, barette in hair, guitar on lap, DAT on chair. Hands on keyboard, the alarm buzzing, cup on shelf, CDs in a row. Bag on table, papers on desk, key in lock, a talk by Lesk. Drawer is open, folder's full, tickets on wall, postcards too. Aren't you glad I shared all the things in my room with you.
Lyrics: Ram and Maureen