my mind is like a clock, that will only work backwards
ticking time bombs who's only mission is to destroy
working with weapons of mass innovation
causing and increase in creation  
almost always working in pen,
because I'll never make a mistake
won't draw to close to my face
and never breath in the think ink,
breath air, life, and art
I always start last
and most of the time never finnish
but I was taught
to hold everything close
because the only predictable thing
about life is it's unpredictability
so i would spray paint
"Fu.uK pigs" on police walls
because people are to over rated,
and why is it that my paint brushes
are the only ones to understand the messages
that want to leap off the canvas.
and sit impatiently on my stool
trying to find a meaning.