“Untitled and don’t care”

by Incarcerated Flavors


Holding my head above water is tough; certainly when the turbulence is all the way up I get this funny feeling in my gut.


Bums sit on the corner begging for wine, they possibly have more income than mine. Sipping moonshine my uncle sun made off his grapevine.  I give my last bit of change although it won’t make a change, why they all looking at us like we strange. I feel all of your pain it’s like that old cliché, “Fire in my brain”


I use to feel divine not because I gave up swine but within my mind, worries exceeded me yet they never defeated thee.  I loved my inner peace and nothing could disturbith me, then my country tears of thee enforce their laws on we you see, Getting a head is often a young boys fantasy.