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06-25 rhymes
Is it getting crazy in here or is it just us?
noone came open your ears, I'll do it some Justice.
wandering, heaven is where you drink yourself into a parked bus.
Irreverent feverish sheeple up at the market,
More like if the circus got mixed up with imposters,
another cold body-ass-kid up laying on the pavement.
My only wish is to see the look on your face when you realize you'll never make it.
Truth, illusions or fantasy, Ive made my mind up,
the plan came to fruition, you retiring bankrupt.
Meanwhile the exiled scratching at the draw-bridge.
my food for thought sees you as cannon fodder, targeted,
The artist harvesting an aweful lot of bodies today as garnshments.
nine miles walking it took me two steps, you still back at the finishline hopelessly clueless.