Or the son, the heir,
But in your inbox I appear
Whatever it means the same thug
Ass up, head buried, so smug
And it’s here to baby sit the stars
Big screen. TIFF on sold out in cars
Or shoot the sheriff
In self defence, as if
Just kidding, omg the suspense
This time it shoots itself
Like Tak, or is it Yak
Year of the snake, oh snap
He floods some Gutian Dam
What is incoherent spam
I love that fried bologne
Battered fish clinging on to a tree
Deep fried pig roast, that sound
It’s someones soul un-found
Someone’s name sure is yum
Broken English, I get it
Means a mockingbird, bigot
They have a thing called love
Ok rape by an unfit glove
State terrorism
Any ism?
Is just possession
I pass that forward
Never bored
I’m not the next drinkable boy
Or girl, oh that’s joy
Whatever you think is news
I remain the undying muse
Writing this song in time
A segment waiting for my zine
A star designed manifesto
Not another piss stained gigilo
Wrapped by the betrayal
Black as rotten kale
Like the sludge in bulging veins
By a world ruled by Cain
A post apocalyptic dawn
Where they shit I shall spawn
As the world chews me up
We survive their collective gut
What
This upload is only at 86%
I can write a fence well spent
In less time you can pay for your will
Behind the big beautiful bill
Ninety ninety ninety one per whatever
I’m so bored of predicting the weather
96% doesn’t rhyme with the wars you lick
But this one will be sure to stick
And you sure as hell can’t shake a stick at something
8 billion people are not worth my suffering
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