Fuck Your Truck

I’ve got all of my tools on the shelf

I’m doing all of this shit for myself

Going to work on your oversized truck

Is this illegal? Who gives a flying fuck?

Splash paint on your precious machine

Take my keys and write something mean

Smash the windows with a baseball bat

Stab your tires until they’re fucking flat

Rip off your Trump-supporting stickers

Is this enough to make you feel triggered?

Piss in your gas tank, fill it to the top

Cover your seats with sewage and slop

Punch out your side-view mirrors

In case the message doesn’t get clearer

Flip the heavy motherfucker on its side

There goes your final symbol of pride

I can hear your CD’s crunch and crack

Every Kyle anthem and bonus track

Come see the work of art I created

This is what happens when you’re hated

Tears in your eyes, my ultimate prize

Watching you cry in front of your guys

You can throw a punch or grab your gun

You’re still the biggest pussy under the sun

All the macho madness was an act

All the bad karma finally came back

The fights you’ve started, slurs you’ve said

Other people’s girlfriends in your bed

Showing your ass and flashing your dick

Telling ordinary women to suck your prick

Catcalling out on the streets at night

Destroying your truck only felt right

You didn’t need a vehicle any damn way

You’d drunk drive that shit into the bay

Be thankful for what I’ve done, my man

Go back inside and be Trapt’s favorite Stan

You Tried to Kill Me

VERSE 1

You call it a trigger, I call it something bigger

I call you liquored, you’re the one who’s sicker

You tried to take away what I hold highest

My heart, mind, soul, and beautiful silence

Kleptomancy is your magic of choice

Obnoxious bullhorn is your style of voice

I would have screamed to the skies for help

How can anyone hear when I’m chained in hell?

CHORUS 1

You tried to kill me!

You tried to end it all!

You tried to kill me!

You made me take the fall!

VERSE 2

Your empty talk is like a buzzing wasp

Stinging me until my brain goes pop

Pop goes the weasel, down go the people

You make fun of everyone? That’s your spiel?

I don’t buy the idea that this shit’s not personal

You wished me humiliated, wished me terminal

I want to wrap my hands around your pencil neck

Watch shit and piss run down your fucking leg

CHORUS 2

You tried to kill me!

You tried to end my life!

You tried to kill me!

You might as well pull the knife!

VERSE 3

I want to take your inner demons

Turn them against you to make us even

Every ass kicking you have ever taken

Every sad-ass smile you’re just now faking

Every time you were told to go to hell

Every time the crowd laughed when you fell

You’re in my shoes, you’re singing the blues

To say otherwise is nothing but fake news

CHORUS 3

I tried to kill you!

Put your memories to rest!

I tried to kill you!

Make you famous, not like the rest!

You tried to kill me!

You tried to make me small!

You tried to kill me!

How does it feel to curl in a ball?!

You tried to kill me!

"Flight" by Sherman Alexie

For those of us who grew up with a difficult past, it’s easy to get lost in the anger and that anger can often beget violence. Such is the case for half-Irish, half-Indian teenager known only as Zits (because of his poor complexion). His Indian father left him when he was just a baby and his mother died of cancer when Zits was only six years old. Ever since then, Zits has been bounced around from foster home to foster home with nothing but rage boiling inside of him. The burning hot anger gets too be too much and with the guidance of another troubled youth only named Justice, Zits comes within moments of shooting up a bank full of strangers. Before he can actually pull the trigger, the Indian youngster gets sent back to various moments in time in which the people he inhabits had to make violent choices as well, from nineteenth century Indian warriors to corrupt FBI agents. In each of these moments, Sherman Alexie is doing what a book critic once said he did all along, which was break our hearts and make us laugh at the same time. The laughter comes from the pop culture references and snappy dialogue, all of which coming from the narrative mind of Zits. The heartbreak takes the form of various deaths and tragedies that the people Zits wakes up as had to endure. Killing another human being isn’t nearly as easy as our angry consciences make it out to be. Yes, we can be angry enough to punch someone out or shoot someone into oblivion, but after the fact, it becomes hard to live with. Committing violent acts isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. It’s not relieving. It’s not therapeutic. It’s hurtful. Pain begets pain. Anger begets more anger. Blood doesn’t wash away no matter how much dish soap you use to scrub your hands with. Only a cold-blooded mercenary could ever live with himself after committing murder. Zits is not a cold-blooded mercenary. He’s just a kid who was dealt a crappy hand. And now he’s imagining dealing a crappy hand to complete strangers in return. The blood, the tears, the heartache, is it all worth it? If it’s still worth it to you after you read Flight by Sherman Alexie, you missed the point entirely. Life isn’t an Arnold Schwarzenegger movie. It’s not even a Jason Statham movie. It’s a cycle of violence that tears away at us until there’s nothing left. Think about that for a minute, if you have the stomach for it.

　

***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“Shawn Michaels claims to be this great Christian who loves everybody and then he goes out and shoots innocent animals with a high-powered rifle.”

-Jim Cornette-