GET OBER PLZ

As I sit and write this

I Call insight to my life’s shit.

I hope to find this part of me

Pardon righteous me, 

He Gon off to the dark to see 

The corners of the temple 

Where he’ll sell his soul

To see inner workings and methods of healing.

Off the bark to see between that and the real me

theres realms in between you don’t see

But none is of me, the ugly child.

Livin off disgust and dirt

I don’t care to discuss her and the tendencies she brings

Cause I’d kill a lung for her, not to distort her,

I’m tripping so it feels real like that

And Disorders make it worse.

That shadow borders me and something else

And That first hit got me comfortable with nothing, 

but i touched her soul and could ease 

so it must mean something whole, please,

Just show me soul, is all i ask of thee. 

All while comfortable

With the devils touch 

I’m pushed to leave for better. 

So I sit and write this 

With a Dutch drawing peddles that represent my future and stuff. 

It’s not enough so I’ll come down when it’s comfortable to draw from the highs ware off 

Then be lead to dwell in a deep sleep to ignore the answer I know I’ll wake up to.

Bake and then fake the entertainment, 

I’ll just play the doll with painted pretend blood.

“I give up” is the role,

But it’s not the whole scene and theres more to the character than what stares at ya.

Innocence covers the villainous in a sense,

I’m just tryina pretense mine with pens and verses to bitch about change in a sense.

Thought comes before action, 

But if the act never comes 

Then nothin gets done 

And it’s just an idea in a sense. 

You think that counts for innocents?

Ignorance is bliss, 

but that doesn’t make it right, 

what difference does it make?

Nothin, I write this as I take another hit. Aware of my life’s shit.