ghosts of a current future keep dialing me up
askin "what is love"
or
do you wanna fuck?
these pretty broads aura is such a facade
I pop off tops of scotch
pour it up...nod off...
chemical dependancies have faded
its the out dated ways in which we weigh or strength...
wailing to a horizon of baby blues and pink...
the length of time I was in sync
with my backstreet ploys
follies in a mirage of underground policies
D.I.Y or die
slowly.
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