Hello there!

I'm Adam Walton, or 'Adam Robert Kurt Walton'. I'm a musician, a comedian, and like all humans, I have problems. Therefore, a lot of the time, I write poems or raps (I can't really rap but I can imagine them being rapped) to get things out. I like the idea that other's can read them too but I don't want to annoy everyone on Facebook with them so I'm putting them here.

Thanks for reading.

Monday, 27 April 2015

Heart Is Where The Home Is

It’s like i’m in love with a robot, or someone stuck in Groundhog Day. 
There’s no way I couldn’t fall for you, but you don’t believe what I say? 
You’re stinging me like a sting ray, 
Ignoring me like I’m a pin in some hay, 
Until you take a sip through your lips and move your hips and then your bullshit rips through my soul, 
Acting plain and black as coal, is this going to be forever my role? 
Love blinding me like I’m a mole, putting me down like I’m a leg-broken foal, 
You’re driving me crazy, like I’m fucking S.O.A.D, 
You try and set me free and I make myself blind to see how it just later hurts me, 
Because when your arms are around me, I don’t want to see the pain you’re dealing, 
Stopping my heart from healing, oh look it’s fucking bleeding, 
Stopping the wounds from sealing, and even though I try reading what you mean,
When it seems like you’re keen, observing what I’ve seen, 
It’s just obscene and pretty fucking mean how wrong I’ve been. 
Lean on me again and let me hold my breath and count to ten, 
Because when your eyes are in mine it’s like I’ve reached Zen, 
You’re Barbie and I’m Ken, we’d probably get a ten from Len but then you go to bed and wake up and then,
It all changes, I’m shooting in different ranges, become a baby rocking in a manger, 
Become pointless and broken, tears making me soaking, the pain making me woken, 
But would I stop you next time? No, because I pretend it’s all fine, 
I couldn’t find someone I want more to be mine, I ain’t lyin’, I’ve stopped cryin’, 
But I’ll stop trying because I can’t keep prying, 
So I’ll just keep sighing and dying leaving a loud ring in my stinging head, 

Maybe I’ll be better off dead.

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