Your Business is a Disease, Left For Someone Else to Catch

your business is not something i want to invest in.

you in general are just  a waste of space and are

eating up my contributions to society in the

most unnatural, unpleasing, and severly unhygienic

ways. your business is something like laundry,

and you've hung it to dry in the most public of

places, leaving it in the park for anyone to come

and gander, to poke and prod, to make assumptions and to assume 

is surely what is happening, but you're in the business of lies and deceit, 

of debt and regret. your business is a sinking ship 

and even those become valuable because the legends

 start up and there are souvniers and we are all suddenly standing in line waiting 

for the foam fingers and light up sticks so we can show 

that we had known and known all along. your business is a closed shop on the corner 

of a downtown street; filled with squatters and bad publicity. 

you are the face of a serious problem. your business is something i want away from

but it's like a toxic poison dripping into all the outlets and found

 on bus stops and under couch cushions. you business is a disease left 

for someone else to catch, you think your operation is baseball 

but you are missing all your targets and all your balls have fallen out of your basket. 

your business is something we don't want to get into. 

but you've corrupted our lives with all your cries and i am trying to cut all ties, 

but to cut the ties would mean to die and to die by your side; 

would be such an incredibly fucked up thing to do 

because your bed has been made, and lay with the roaches you will

 because the flowers have all spoiled and you words are charred and broiled 

and i hope you get out of the business of being in our business, 

you filthy animal.