whats a boy to do
except sit around
get higher than the moon.
just some flan & a cacoon
empty rooms-broken ceiling fans
haunts of a past binge of some fall afternoons.
regale me of your sins
tell me what makes you brake
what helps you bend
sifting through rubble in the space time continuum
I was about 12 when I learned what being a shit head is
wanted to steal some pokemon cards so I did what it does
no one ever found out so I perfected my craft into what Ive become
mostly lines...sometimes clones...mostly new ones...better ones / same concept tho.
whos off that boy tho
burn brighter than the sun.
Ive lost so many friends & brothers...but thats another note
I just decided to write till I turn blue
even if its tomorrow afternoon
I havent started thinking like a loser.
all this work and yet still we'll look back like nobody knew
because they didnt...because their scope was limited to grooves
sure persistance makes rivers
but alchemy & magic potions make oceans and nebulas bloom