Lying in bed, talking about politics
Hand sun-stroking my head.. I feel the heat of your palms
I'm in vitamin D withdrawal...
Words don't come as easy as they did before
I've turned into a butchered societal-jargon whore..
No more yearning, nostalgia, wheretofore --
foray into .."Nigga, what you doin that for.." and "Nigga ain't got money, I'm broke poor.."
Spewing back the trash I've eaten, its defeatin', into cretin I have weakened..
But radiance draws me in, basorexia, melt that smiling grin... sunshine for days...
How so much clarity? Living in this drunken, lovelorn haze..
No comments:
Post a Comment