Tuesday, 14 May 2013

Getting Pissed Of For Creating Art


Getting pissed of for creating art
Out on the beach oh what a start
On Brighton seafront to make my mark
To show the world the ultimate spark

With nowhere to live except the beach
Creating art no one can teach
And trying not to be a leech
In a world of darkness I simply screech

So I put up a tent to keep myself clean
That someone has gave me and everyone's seen
Along with duvets because I'm keen
To show the world what I mean

After walking the coast in due respect
To write a book oh what a mistake
To help homeless charities for the crack
After a newspaper told lies which is fact

Which pissed me of more which is true
And I didn't have to do what I did do
Because I didn't care about life too
And all I wanted was to be like you

To have a place and a simple job
So I didn't have to go out and rob
To make ends meet to get a few bob
But this is life for the down and out snob

Thinking that homeless charities would like my cause
And help me out without no claws
To give them something along with applause
As I went out and broke many laws

Just to create art no other would dare
In a world of chaos that is never fair
Yet I was right they don't care
Because I'm no artist this I swear

I'm just a bum out on the road
Who simply lives life no fixed abode
Doing what I do before I explode
Hoping one day my body will corrode

Going through all weathers and becoming ill
This was real stupid and probably is still
Yet like I say its one heck of a thrill
That even newspapers can simply kill

And so do these charities that I want to help
Because I have been there and know what I felt
But they don't care I simply yelp
So no much wonder the homeless hate the life their dealt

As they keep fighting each day and night
To conquer the demons that's never right
After being pissed on from a great height
Then set on fire burning bright

Which I know is simply true
Because it happened to me too
With patronizing interviews oh what's new
I am no one so how do you do

With many a newspaper sharing my story
Of walking the coast oh don't bore me
Which was nice to get the glory
Yet its still not a good enough story

And I am no voice for no homeless person
But as I write this i'm simply cursing
Well out loud with no diversion
With a sore head I am simply nursing

For I'm now messed up in the head
And realizing it I am brown bread
As addiction still boils really instead
Now simply hoping I'll end up dead