Richard Sopko

There's nothing new to talk about
Nothing new to say
Nothing new on television
No new games to play
...

There's nothing on my lips
No name dances on my tongue
And this is it
I'm all grown up
...

In the darkest
Night of nights
When the moon
Has all but perished
...

Bang! Goes each and every nail in my coffin
All the noise is disturbing and I find it quite perturbing
That I'm put inside a coffin when I'm just not very dead
I'm confused that I might lose my life inside this unwanted bed
...

I'll never be a boxer
I haven't got the body mass
I'll never be a gentleman
I just don't have the class
...

I'm glad that my face isn't riddled with holes
Because I've yet to duet with Beyonce Knowles
I'm glad that no knives are deep in my gut
Now that'd put my social life into a rut
...

We slept in caves so the sun's rays wouldn't burn our face
Scurried through high wheat fields the hanging moon joins us
He guides us like a caring mother's hand on ours
Tonight he is our companion to the chase
...

Perhaps the world
Will come to need
Talents such as mine
My hands are full of razorblades
...

Oh what a word upon my lips
So savory to sound
And when it finally comes to pass
I'll be buried in the ground
...