Peameal, Back or Canadian Bacon

  October 8th, 2011 by tyrant

I’m not even stoned yet. That won’t last another hour. I cooked enough bacon for sandwiches for everybody.  Thanksgiving dinner is tonight, at the Mom’s cottage. It’s also a small celebration for my birthday, as I won’t be seeing any of these people next week on the actual birthday date.

I still feel like I want to kill somebody. A story in the news brings me hope.

Two crack heads. One lives in the apartment, owes a bunch of drug money. One pissed off crack head, wants his money. The angry crack head brakes into the others home, the crack head in debt fights to defend himself, his property. The angry crack head ends up with a cracked skull then dies.

This is hopeful to me, because the drug addict who does the killing, is let go free.

What if I bring this up at the dinner table tonight “I’m thankful for the right to waste stupid motherfuckers on my land.” I think I would still drag his body off the lawn and into the house, looks better to the pigs that way.

On another note bacon is good shit, all types of bacon.

He don’t like himself,
And he don’t know how to deal,
Spends most of his time,
With his crops in the field,
He’s unloadin’, and cleanin’ the steel,
Thinkin’ they’re going to feel how I feel,
If they come between me and my getting high,
They all gunna die.

He’s nervously dumping out a box of shells,
There’s no way I’m livin’ in a cell
And these four officers,
Stain the gravel red where they bled.
And he’s nervously dumping out a box of shells,
There is no doubt I’m going to hell.
And these four officers, stain the gravel red where they bled.

So no,
No soul
Forget it.

Spend too much time on these seeds,
Only to leave,
With a couple of keys,
See I know that I’m a problem,
But you the disease, you the disease,
And I’m fixin’,
To get what I need,
Not a man is going to take that from me.
And he is screaming.

Get off my property,
Starts pumping shells,
And dropping D’s,
Over car payments and crops of trees,
With that badge you think that you can’t bleed,
Well I’m,
Fixing to get what I need,
Not a man is going to take that from me.

And when the sheriff rolled up,
On the Roscoe residence,
Little slow,
A Little hesitant,
See those cruises parked so still,
Gave him a chill,
They’d all been killed,
It was Fathers, Sons, and Constables,
Dropped by a madman who lost his soul.
Why did you kill ‘em Jimmy
 This song is based on this event.


And into the bush, away from the stupid internet I go, dreaming of what I have, and what I want.

Drugs and Guns…

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