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