What you think can become your reality.
So I try and think that I am a cowboy.
In my mind I got goals,
I write them down,
Put them in neat little rows,
Knock them down,
Like pins or proles.
And that is the difference
I get up, and I go.
I move forward with this limp wrist linguist.
I write with the tragic comedies hit list.
I think princess, and think wishlist,
And my goals?
I want to be a muthafuckin MISFIT.
Thinkcrime, newspeak, I write down
New rules. New goals.
I want to be the best at what I do.
Write in igloos, in Alaska.
I want to run through the cornfields in Nebraska,
Find God in the salt mines of North Africa.
I want to step foot in the Sacred Sadona.
I want to drive a 1974 Chevy Nova,
I want to be overrated like Mona,
And drink Coca Cola with the pornstars of North Dakota.
Yeah, I got goals.
I want a dog, a bulldog, or a Labrador,
I want more and more, stuff I can’t afford
Like an ancient Samurai Sword, or first pressing of the Doors, The Doors
Autographed by Morrison, on the Parisian floor of the bathtub he died in.
I want to rise up like Leviathan.
Goals. I got goals.
I want to race down the 405 like OJ but without killing Nicole.
Maybe in a Maserati, or a BMW with a beauty right beside me,
Write in airplanes, going to Miami.
Goals, looks like one is to travel.
Yup, once this head begins to unravel, it looks like I want to see the world
Or maybe you too.
Have a pocket full of pearls.
A couple of books in tow,
And an agent on the phone.
Goals? Yeah I got goals.
Gonna make em one by one.
Jason Wright is the editor and founder of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly.