Theatrical maniac getting off on your petty laugh,
a moment of truth for the defining epitaph.
Pulse is hastening as you begin to react,
blood thick in your veins keeps you closer to a heart attack.
The act put forth was impressive to say the least.
Cat covered in a turtle neck made of fleece,
released to seek out and defeat just to eat.
Every dollar spent is just another form of release,
a steady deflation of the creation of internal conspiracies.
Broke wallet,
broken mind.
Got to force myself to rhyme,
and before it was fine but now I'm tired of being in time.
I'd rather smoke through a dime,
and forget about my tummy and the worry for a while.
Smile to myself as my dreams get wild.
Back to whatever statements were being made.
Something about a person,
something about a blade.
Sequentially the whole thing turned out just as it should've.
Someone's heart got ripped out cause they were all about the 'would've'.
Could've been there to share,
that those fears were asking for your bus fare.
Rocking and stomping you square,
dead demonic astrological stare.
Once again, you could've turned the music up until they could hear it blare.
Caste them out of this horrible nightmare,
no one but you is really needed there.
---
Now, how about that pocket full of gossip that you brought up?
No one's really saying this shit ain't smart,
but I'll be damned if I won't pour out a full cup,
just to plaster up the holes from all the times the ceiling fell apart.
---
Where from here?
Re-occurring fear of being near the decedent of decadence,
abashed from all the years in the under glow of excellence.
Pipe smoke,
you'd hope a man who values precedence,
can suffocate the brain and let the mind choke.
Coming up from a place filled with cold beer and kind folk,
never really understood the benevolence,
of people never waiting for the punchline of the joke.
Poked holes through the ceilings, floors and walls,
to keep the restraints secured when I fall into the thrall of it all.
Discretion is advised once you switch sides.
Rid yourself of lies, fuck ups and cut ties.
Expand the palm of your hand,
now wrap it in those grape vines,
maybe I'll explain it in a way that you can understand,
I broke shit up and took mine.
It's probably about now you did the same before you're dangling by a line.
Refined lyrical divine,
testing your memory and patience with empirical signs.
If you coincide with the quality of the bars you tend to spit,
might as well throw down my mitt,
fucking give up on this shit.
Okay?
No more no good dewy eyed baby,
frowning like a hazy sad clown,
shit made me lazy.
Time to take the notch up one or two,
or maybe I'm just crazy?
I've got stuff to do,
but I've been loving spending time with you.
That tough act, gunslinger rough neck attitude,
is brought down a few,
once you find yourself getting rowdy about what's calling to say boo.
Shoot, like that wasn't the type of shit dreams are made of.
At least in a fantasy we are just what we made up.
Parallel cell confinement,
suspended loft,
you may never cross each other but your symmetry won't ever be off.
You share a bond of destiny,
those things never go soft.
Rock hard bonds like that are hard to find if they ever get lost.
So never just toss away a perfectly good thing just cause it's broken,
if it holds meaning keep it as a beacon,
a token,
of all the things you got to hold inside your hand and watch open.
---
