You'll probably find this one on a used envelope, I keep losing my journal.

I'll call it polished,
but this extra pen, the tip now demolished,

without a permit for explosive demolition,
all about permitting my explosive ambition,

my passions all have short fuses,
high fashion ladies suffering from self-abuses,

I've got no sympathy,you could alleviate all your problems so simple-ly,
but problematic women are forever in style, that's why these boxers are from '94 when I was bored in 9th grade counting the ceiling tile,
I measure my progress in quality friends, not miles...from who I used to be,
I thought I was supposed to be myself? that's what my 1st grade teacher told me,

I never sold out me, cause no one was buying,
put your bets on the table and don't you dare let me catch you lying,

I know most of us can give more but compassion is not in the budget,
I push and push and push, and you can shove it,

is this really how far we've come, is this how far we've gotten,
the Earth was a crisp ripe fruit now rotten,

only suitable for the trough, and that's where us pigs feed,
this isn't where we've come, we're lost and we have no idea what we need.