Untitled pt. IX

It was all too honest

And with all due in a lack of respect

Weekly highs and all time lows disturb the peace and fuck up the flow

Revoke my dreams and provoke the word off the motherfucking streets

As we kick the crack, the ice and the black

I am feeling pretty stuck,

Pretty fake and partially fucked

And if we’re all supposedly going up

Well I can rarely see that, “Do you really believe that shit?”

Or bring myelf to speak out– be it prewritten, published, or passed out

In a public humiliation in which we were tuned the fuck in 

Despite mixed feelings of writhing in our skins

(With drought and loss) in a self-evident misery

Goddamm she must have had some sympathy

Lying on a floorbed with you with my chest empty

I’m sad and I can’t breathe,

Can hardly love and find it even harder to believe

Anything but you could make me feel more free

Drowned out by fatal works of symmetry 

No matter what the cost;

Or when to stop–

Split the cash and our new dope spot

Drop the shit, the shadow people and the cops

In an intervention to a once artificial nature

She must have given away all that we gave her

No wonder nobody thinks it’s wise

To save her; it’s alright



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