How To Find Your Inner Beast

What's the matter?
words, words, words.
I could tell you the other day society tried to kill me
for taking its picture one too many times.
I could tell you I had to drive the wrong way down one-way
streets,
poison my mind to purge its disease,
tear away this skin to find my inner beast.
I could tell you I've been singing at the moon, drinking deer and hare
blood,
and things will be okay.
But no matter how hard I write,
or how cleverly I say, the very same words
they get in the way.