Hold on, things are getting a little wobbly now
People are looking at me a little oddly now
I'd stop taking these pills, but I don't know how
'Cause first it was Lexapro when I was a teen
And then Xanax as an appetizer a couple of years later
That would've been about the same time you would've seen me in the paper
A big celebration as a local makes it big
I haven't made it now, and I didn't make it then
The only person who's called me a real celebrity is Pulpit & Pen
And I won't mention them moving forward
I'm not supposed to say any more until we see them in court
And believe me, I'll bring the press like full court
There's a double meaning in those last four words
Get it? Some of you don't even listen
I'm giving you gold for bars
And you're listening to some poet rhyming "cars" and "stars"
What rhymes with those? Oh yeah, "Mars"
But NASA can't get there, can it
Which reminds me I'm not from this planet
I'm an astronaut
I'm in Houston, look there's an astro, not
Are you an athlete or a singer?
'Cause I know I've seen ya before
Says the second lady before I can get out the door
She only said that because someone else asked for a pic
Woman, you know dang right you don't know who this is
I play professional soccer, I said with a laugh
See, I knew it, I could tell by your tats
Can we get a pic? My husband won't believe it when I get back
I think to myself, "Oh I'm sure you'll both have a laugh"
I don't know why God keeps putting half of these people in my path
I better tell them about Jesus or face God's wrath
So what about the last lady, am I crazy?
Is she going to Hell where she'll scream "Clayton could've saved me!"?
Because that's the first and the last time I'll ever meet her
What are the odds that someday I'll see her?
Slim to none
Get slim, no fun, too slim, get gunned
Because the skinnier I get, the closer I feel to death
For those of you wanting me to kill myself, don't hold your breath
Haters coming at me like a Vudu hex
Jimi Hendrix on this poetry, LSD 'til there's nothing left
My friend is in the LDS and he loves it
He follows the steps and he actually does it
But then there's his cousin
He's a Baptist who does what he wants
If it doesn't involve drugs, it doesn't involve fun
Both annoy me as I cut town to put a gun to my chest
Jamie waking up thinking, "I knew that he left"
And Arabelle coming in to play, what are you gonna tell her next?
That daddy really didn't have a big tattoo of an "S" on his chest?
Wordplay with no apologies like enough is enough
Pull yourself out of this depression by your billy goats gruff
Eat me when I'm fatter, oh wait you finally caught a punchline, I'm flattered
I have this poetry mastered
I just wish I could get back to writing about my Master
Because I know He doesn't need us, but I still feel like I'm letting Him down
But then again, I rationalize it because I feel like He's letting me drown
But if I could write a happy poem, I would do it in a second
And I'd write a hundred of them if my gut would just let it
But I told you guys you were always gonna get the honest me
And I feel like a lot of you are on to me
"Clayton is a one-trick pony", but there's no trick here and there's no phony
You're on to me about my struggles with faith
And you're on to me about my struggles with grace
And you're on to me about doubting Jesus, God, and the Bible
And you're on to me about wanting to bully bullies
And you're on to me but don't understand me fully
And that's how it's supposed to be, supposedly
The mystery of the wordsmith who mastered his craft
I'm done with this poetry, you can have it all back