1946 Feels

“Lightrail music”
And I better stop using
Baby I’ve melted, I’m fusing
Forensic sciences further abusing
The mess I’ve made, metaphorically paid

However unjust; just tell me something
Is it time for our breakfast-lunch?
I’ve been waiting all day and I’m getting the hunch
That even mid-day mornings are the best time to hunt
For; open keys upon each locked door

Stumbling upon heavy, heaven sent floorboards
And lover I’m perturbed, wandering vicariously
To now viciously occur in moments we sling to slur
Redeem to ensure–

Better yet let’s just rehearse
The few feigning lines
Since faint and forever fine
Polymorphic and prismatic in view
And we still remain the very few
To keep us second-guessing
The mid-afternoon news

“So what’s the truth?”
And why keep rapping
When morning papers regrettably assume
‘What’s the haps, kid?’
Some cocaine or loose wheels
Lets take the team back
1946 feels


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