#8 The Rig

The Rig
The gig is up
Comfortable messed up
Circle until throw up
Vommiting out those regrets
McDonald’s regrets,
On the rig where the soil is hard,
Where hard is the only way it seems
To be,
Mad Max in the surreal life,
But madly in love in the real life,
Is love the best addiction?
Or is it just addiction?
Is it just the digging life you
Are tired of?
The way to dig deep within–
Grew up on your rig,
Your money, your honey,
Your milk, my silk, but you
Were the spinner, I was the
Sinner,
Through you chose,
No, so did I,
Now a new runaway kind
Of life I live,
My own rig, I
Choose to dig, for oil
And for something new,
The gig has passed and
We outlast it,
The rig has chosen us,
So we choose to dig

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