I had to scratch my itch again
It’s like I have just got hands
and know where to go
to get that feeling
that isn’t sexual but isn’t entirely neutral
nor mechanical, nor subliminal
It’s my itchy fingers on a keyboard
words on the screen, maybe the big, big screen
Until then I will dream and scratch my itch
nightly, daily, whenever it may seem
And get closer to my glory
wherever that may be
another publishing or a deal or three
until then I will scratch my itch , again.
I scratch my itch to get at what lurks outside the back doors
trying to get back in by wearing a smile.
My itch is the innocent that walked the extra mile
that did not give up when it got lonely
who did not react to girls all homely
But one who started straight ahead staring out judge Dredd
and all those lame heroes
who never had a mother.
I am itching, So I scratch, I am itching So I scratch.
I want It so bad…
I deserve it So much…
Give me your best and I will match it…
you know…I am so much scratch made itch I am bleeding poor
There’s a (The nineties) wolf at the door
But its 2017 Bro, No place to hide , nowhere to go.
You know, so I scratch my itch once more
until you’re knocking at my door.
KNOCKING AT MY DOOR.