I see the wind whip threw my tree riddled city
Drip drip drip
The pitter patter of realitivley
I put on a ski mask with holes worn into the neck and chin area
Sparing the hypothermia that will ultimately rid me of this ethereal fear
Peer in to my soul
Is it merely piers or oceans
Maybe the Marionic trench
Doomed to repeat history
To stupid to say anything about it
Another night on a couch somewhere in Brooklyn
These crooklyn dodgers are fathers in the sense that their always learning
Teaching
Manifesting a new state of being
I’m not dead yet
But I sure as fuck am bleeding
But this cooperstone won’t run
And the kids are no fun if they can’t operate guns or do drugs
This is our america
A nation of pirates and parrots
Nationalism and tariffs
This is my nation
And it burns this Black Friday
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