Stolen from 

http://zena.secureforum.com/interactive/creative/lyrics_display_frame.cfm?author=Painted+Thin

				    Landmine
				by Painted Thin

			 I MADE IT THROUGH ANOTHER DAY
			     PAT MYSELF ON THE BACK
			BUT I CARRY THIS WITH ME STILL:
	      THE SIGHT OF THE BLOOD IN THE DRAWER OF EVERY RETAIL
				 WORKER'S TILL

	  BUT I'VE READ THE BRUISED, BEATEN FACES OF A BURMESE FRIEND,
	       GANG-RAPED WITH THE CONTENTS OF HER UTERUS BARED.
		  IT'S NOT A PHOTO LAYOUT THAT I'VE EVER SEEN,
	  WRAPPED IN THE PAGES OF OF A PEPSI-COLA PROMOTIONAL MAGAZINE

			     SOME DAYS I CAN DO IT
			      WALK INTO ANY STORE
			  AND HAND MY MONEY TO A PEER
			   IN SOME DEMEANING UNIFORM

	   IT'S THOSE OMINOUS THREE WORDS THAT STARE BACK AT ME FROM
			     THE BOTTOM OF A GLASS
	     AND TAGS THAT TAUNT ME FROM THE BACK OF EVERY PIECE OF
				CLOTHING I HAVE
	  AND THIS SOLDIER WIPING BLOOD FROM HIS SHIRT IN THE BURMESE
				   SUN LAUGHS
		       BECAUSE THE COINS THAT I ABANDONED
		     THEY ARE WEIGHING DOWN THE PANT POCKET
		   THAT THIS ECONOMIC PARTNERSHIP HAS BROUGHT

			 I MADE IT THROUGH ANOTHER DAY
			     PAT MYSELF ON THE BACK
			BUT I CARRY THIS WITH ME STILL:
		  THE SIGHT OF A BLOOD SOAKED BURMESE SOLDIER
	       AND THE FULL MALL PARKING LOT THAT'S FUNDING HIM.





			      Breathing Mechanics
				by Painted Thin

			  My chest moves up and down.

			I find a steady pulse sometimes.

	       Every breath is caught in this loosely woven net,

		  The malignant grey of streets and sidewalks.

		  Everything nice I see is framed in concrete.

			  My chest moves up and down.

			I find a steady pulse sometimes.

		   Men are taught to wreck the nicest things;

		    The blue in this window has attrophied.

		   The floor's rigid chill seeps into my legs

		      as I wrap jokes around my apologies.

	      Sentences grate on my tongue like knees on concrete.

			  My chest moves up and down.

			I find a steady pulse sometimes.

			  That's all I have to go by.

		    Loss of trust is like a sliver of death.

		    The roots rot out of overwatered plants.

		      I'm set against this greying weight,

		      But i'm only as good as my choices.

       And in the face of a friendship that's been encased in concrete...

			  My chest moves up and down.

			I find a steady pulse sometimes.

			  That's all I have to go by. 
.