The rent is due

The rent is due and I don't have it again
something in my childhood said a man should provide
he should take care of his family
yet so many of us don't, we struggle so much with it
Women it seems do very much better than us
rent is this big black vulture
a blot on the sky
a cloud of ink running, pouring smudging itself across the entire page of the sky
and the writing curses it's fate
swears again and again that it will stop
memories of oblivion
we have only been here a short time anyways
since you threaten to destory us lets leave and let the world be silent
what is the point then of words, the sonds we leave behind us like tracks of sweet across the wild blue forever
the daylight we create, our child the sun, what is the purpose if the dumb grey, fat useless bohemoth, the devil
just holds us in his sway
and you all love him
and he comes to collect
a bit of our soul every month
and we can't afford it
becuase we aren't rich in currency but in colors
maybe we should leave
and they shout as they are swallowed up damn y...
eventually it's paid and the next month speeds towards today
we are slaves here
souls not enslaved by humanity, or the human condition,
but by evil
whose left handed middle finger is rent