maybe I thought for a second, i won’t ever rep
with another or find this accepted,
maybe i thought that my father rejected me, the thought seems a bit laughable, tragically i can’t ask him a thing, no i’m mortal, the past I ignore, but that trash isn’t cordial, no formal apology kid, cuz the way i was raised it’s the best i could give ya,

now it’s gone in the midst, and i don’t blame him for the shit that i did, or the way that I am, cuz it made me a man and demanded i came up and maybe it gave
my emotions a handcuff, lately i’ve had some
trouble adapting, and asking is passive

aggressive, can’t stress this enough, i am not calling out, i’m just testing the message,

it’s all therapy here, airing my thoughts, maybe truth will appear, maybe not, maybe this is a plot, maybe this is a lot for some drunken writing to cure,

maybe god’s in the mirror with a handgun,
save me a beer i’ll be nearly abandoned,
before i could brandish and manage to take my life,
i’ll be damned if i let that happen,


it’s the same old, whether in the rain or the grave, though the rain always came with the same kinda rainbow,
so far away, and the joke still remains,
like the body decays while your god instigates hope,

ricochet bone outta the shell, cowardice spell,
tell me how the power is held, tower of hell,
pillar i devour, in stealth, unexpected like in death
your final hour is felt

yeah, i take 21 grams off em, like i’m erasing nursing homes off the map often, they like “you can’t stop him”, I’ll fight the last squadron, i’ll double trouble,
make it bubble like Macbeth’s cauldron

i’m long in the tooth now,
my incisors are proof i don’t chew now,
i just rip and tear, swallow em whole, because time is running out and I got nowhere to go

i gotta hold my own down, i think i hold my own back,
i gotta mold my own crown, i gotta heart like coal black
i gotta cold blank stare, gotta cold one here in my palm why care, cry and moan right there where i left my soul at,
if i don’t stop now, no going back

[hook]
haven’t i traveled and been on this road
pardon the memory, this shit is old
or this is the cold ones, rip my identity
kids by my side as i slide inevitably
to the edge, slide off the ledge,
i’m the type of guy to die where he stepped
live by the sword and high in the head
if the guilltoine drops then tie off my neck


breakin the bonds of hatred, my language is tasteless
and often jaded, constant abrasions, conscience grated,
locked away, coughed up, ensconced with satan

walk with a shaman misshapen like chakras baked in apocryphal talks, awaken the convent, aint them a long line of past lives? all inhabitants of my mistakes

and the cost to make them are constant cravings, or godless stamens, my thoughts are haven for contemplating the birth of the weed i incur by my words
I am fraught with baggage

the frost i came in, the fog i resolve as flagrant, all i see is the conflict raising,
the dawn of the holocene, hot for ages,
and hell musta boiled up when all the plates shift,

stop with the condemnation, y’alll get inside try to halt the matrix, i got secrets on top like masons,
the keys in the spot of the cross are brazen

and the people all thought it was oscillation
maybe thought that the bond was breaking
if the right frequency would resonate,
but i am proof that the cause is wasted