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Nov 2016
Criminal Arson, lyrical Spartan

All coming from the dark abyss
of my apartment

I'm Aiming for your cartilage
Heart attacks happen often

Watch your ****
watch your next step

Slip up, to get surgery
like open neck

Don't expect
this **** to be progressive
nor a lullaby

I've been non-aggressive
for the longest time

I deserve some credit
for this overtime

I have reached a point
where I'm disrupting lives

Cold bars
see we're living in some chilly times

Every day I cross the street
yet I'm negligent of the signs
if I get hit is that ****** or suicide?

I see it as do or die
that action is to defined

These words move faster
For people with slower minds

This accent is Anglo-Saxon,
to massive yet to disguised

I write in the form of acid
too drastic for you and I

Avoiding all of the masses
by acting like I am passive

When really my minds a passage
That leads to actions erratic

Most people are systematic
Calculated by habits
Always missing in action
Due to lack of a passion
Distorted by forms of havoc

Armageddon again, again and again

Tell this message to your fam and a friend

Famine, no salmon nor small m&ms;

This is the end
counter clockwise is this demonstration

Illustrations
in the form of verbal detonations  

Professor X with a hex that will stop all ovulations

So that the idea of having a child
will only exist in imaginations

This is future annihilation
instinctual termination

Nuclear concentrated

enough to change all that's physical, the removal of hair follicles  

So visceral, diabolical cynical
my methodical rituals

Render foes
to their minimal state

I trust as far as I can throw you
What's you physical weight?

I'm hoping to take,
this **** to the next level

So I pulled out the Weegee board and had a chat with the devil

He made me a solid offer
I simply couldn't refuse
There was one thing that I had to do

I dipped a dreidel in a bowl of holy water, then spun it on top the altar, father took a turn but it seems that his luck had Faltered, broke was the man, so in turn, the church had to offer a bundle inside a basket
Which cradled a couple dollars
STLR
Written by
STLR  . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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