hmmm

I’m Working on a lyrical project,

Writing numerical songs that,

Afflict the lonely faces loosely contained by restricting braces,

Fighting the propaganda laid out by malicious races,

Without a trace of mace to wipe that smirk off your ugly face,

While you sit behind a locked door,

Watching the floor as your pores swell collecting grease,

Sippin the sweat drippin to your teeth.

Better be worth it, get a firm fit

From a lazy life affirming your own sick wit,

As I sit back and write a fun script.

Bungee yourself to the top of a black box,

That falls off the conveyer belt as the workers walk out,

Your yelp, yellin for help is drowned out,

By the roar of relieved shouts.

Ignite the fire take me higher where tired souls retire,

Or just give in and sell my body to the most generous buyer.

Hands of God pound the ground,

Look up!

Hear the mighty sound,

Confused faces look for graces that are lost but never found.

Ambitious, superstitious, taste the earth, so delicious,

As death calls me with a sign that looks to be auspicious.

Have you ever heard the word that calls you to the dirt?

Nope, probly not, your life’s an endless growth spurt.

I like gruesome language using corruptin tools of the tongue,

Creatin situations where villains get stung.

They have an aptitude for ignorance,

Leavin psudo-intellectual fingerprints,

Warping minds to think alike,

Like minds fighting the good fight,

As the bright light gets dimmer,

And rusty words shimmer in the public mind’s eye,

Wisdom cries prayin to the skies,

We need a savior!