You scratched the record
And now my head is back on repeat
It goes over that same beat
Over and over again to the point where
I don't even wanna attempt to speak

If silence is golden
Then I'm the biggest known mine
Because it feels as though I've been skating over myself when putting words into rhyme
Always the same topics from me and not to interesting metaphors

You scratched it like a DJ on turntables because I'm winding up to the end of this fable, I can still write and I'm more than willing and able but I gotta stretch my muscles again before I lose the sharpness on my pen, that's my sword

I've got my head in the clouds
How is that a bad thing?
My thoughts are so far from the ground
And maybe they'll touch my dreams

I could stare at the sky
Put neon graffiti on the lazy moon
I could put a symphony with a sunrise
And I still don't think that'd be as beautiful as waaah I'm rambling over a truth

Maybe my hair could be nested in by eagles
Or my tears could fill up clouds for rain
Or all of this could come crashing down because I'm over eager
And I'll end up tasting the sandpapery wine of pain


So maybe having my head in the clouds,
Isn't exactly a prefect thing
But if it's where I belong
Then I'll next a new set of wings

You have to have
Alot of money
To get a girlfriend right

And have a big muscular body

Those are the things
You have to have
To go on dates

Too bad for me I guess

And talking with
My therapist was a bad idea

She listened
And cared about
What I had to say

And then she left

I don't like her
Anymore

I don't like her
I hate you

And I hate money
It was the money
It's always the money

That ruined
Our companionship

I don't have any feelings
Anymore for you

Too bad too
We were close

To having a real relationship

You ruined things

But I'm sure
It won't be
The last time

Now I have no friends
No one to meet with
Once a week

Who knows
Ask for my forgiveness

You are so mean

I used to care about you
Not anymore

Well
At least
You will have to live

In what will be a very difficult
Part of American history

You deserve to suffer some
For what you have done

I'm depressed and deflated because it seems like it's either to lose or get shot is why we were created
Idve remained encouraged but this point can no longer be debated
How are you going to stop someone who doesn't even see a future staring them in the face misplaced patriotism stops you from seeing the tears and hopelessness on our faces that's written
Despair in the air because no one not even ourselves can find the strength to care optimism is a long lost memory
And even then our memories aren't pleasant by any means it seems all we are are muscular commodities fit for athletic endorsements and earning people but ourselves money but we can't use a platform because it would he like trying to preach to Vincent Van Gogh

I'm writing all of this from my perspective you know

Her passion burns bright
her fire catches me
igniting my soul
aroused by lust violently
her flames engulfing me
consuming my mind
body held in captivity
submitting mentally
enchanted by her majesty

What do I do
With these fantasies occupying my mind
I find its easier to express them in rhythmic rhyme
Because not doing so will make me feel like I'm overly drunk on wine
I'll admit that I'm kinda crazy but these thoughts make me rather hazy
And certainly you're not making my libido lazy
So what do I do
With these fantasies of you?

I swear you've become the earworm, that gets stuck in my head
Your eyes are like falling rhinestones, like Gorillaz said.
Why I have to be so far away... that's something around which I couldn't begin to wrap my head

Even when I've got sunshine in a bag, the future is still rather uncertain
Because sometimes my life is more unpredictable than the spread of vermin
But...

If i had to pick someone to navigate those uncertain tides
To listen to my ******* on long car rides
I'd pick you in a heartbeat
..
Hell maybe even a seizure induced spasm