deepundergroundpoetry.com

Too many thoughts

I�m trying to stick to the game plan. Make money, exchange hands but sometimes it is what it ain�t man.
Corrupted head and some stained hands that�s all I have to give,cause there�s too much to take before I�m straight man. Feel me.

It�s ironic consequences can�t chill me.
It�s ironic my living might kill me.
I�ll show you how to eat with no food
Still kicking it,
still no sleep with no snooze, couple scars but my ego don�t bruise.
Always in some shit I just have one of them faces
I seen brother sniff raw till there�s blood on the note, even talking bout it got me numb in the throat.

Blue oceans erode�

I�m so sick of my skin it feels as if my soon to be dust has my third eye in chains.
That�s the real hell it�s a personal closet,
6 feet under in your Sunday best kept from the worms who have no dinner and trees who�s roots are dry as you.
But before I feed the gardens I always neglect it, I would like to feel the walls of my brain just to see where the echos come from.
Because all this time I thought I wasn�t alone.