New sound waves of nothing I'm punked I'm and punking out to a body drought call it pout I call the shit that I'm upset with the real shit, delivering thoughts of nothingness not dressed and I'm proud to say it
I'm late with the hits that will bring me out of this mom and pop shop
True lies in what's in side but behind my guy I astonishingly cope with why
I tell you it hurts to try
Try not, why, wont you ever never let me stop with my toes tucked more like run a muck a chuck I am feeling stuck to you like Elmer's and Apocsy glue I'm screwed into the floor. Can't pimp the whore,
Can't rob that liquor store, or self satisfyingly kill boar bare handed
I'm damned to lifeless freestyle mic just cause it's what I like don't mean it's right
Like the noise of the night, or rehearsing next to garbage man bands
Re creating the can can for dream dancing with a friendly fan
How can I believe in who I am , you'll be damned that I am damned
I feel blind deaf and dumb to a cleverly run pun
Pounding my head toward the sun, I'm done before I'm done
I feel sick to spit please allow me to quietly quickly quit
the sax ran off with my drum click
I stay up when sound sleepers sleep that's when my crossed eyes meet not to defeat my heart beat but allow you to meet the next side of me.
Heads turned around on this formally jinx the clown
Preaching compounds of count downs
Never been to the choice town just finding moments of right now
And right now I'm less fed up with bow downs and metal sounds of my home town sound
I'm not hostel just hip hop-able my hand pounds I topple possible flip tones of being left alone to the dead drone of perfect tone I'm still left alone I'm a full blown clone I'm true to microphone
Mean while revert to chapter two the next side spoke by you
I got nothing left to loss, so I sooth with a green tooth tea for me I consume peacefully I sneeze rhythmically not winning spelling bee's but first place equally inside my stomach line combines with the contour of my winding spine
Not old enough to know to much, I still crouch to clutch as much as the song stuck and we believe in nothing but even in nothing there is something
I feel blind deaf and dumb to a cleverly run pun
Pounding my head toward the sun, I'm done before I'm done
I feel sick to spit please allow me to quietly quickly quit
the sax ran off with my drum click