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