I trip around a corner
Adjacent from the other
All hears the wall
Being built by ones own brother
A king sits front row
While his mother is center stage
He knows he's lost control
But he keeps bottled all his rage
Angels dance reluctantly
Hands grip hands circled up
We all fall down expectantly
Who knows who grows the rows
Mystical marijuana hoes
I'll keep making 8 faces growl
As you steep so low to use eleven
How dare you use that tone of lip
With me boy, dont you know
I'm am you creator, nah, na, na
I couldn't be for I am much two young
And I couldn't be for I am your brother
And I couldn't be for I am a little bit evil
I'm am NOT your creator
But the one you look to when all else
Have so horribly failed
You look to me for a hint of which trail
But militantly I sprinkle false truths for you to stumble into
And because you trust way too much you take them as proof
This red snake slithers down the rabbit hole only to have its nose bit by a gopher who happens to be the rabbits best bud so don't believe all you perceive but reality is not what others breath but what you can conceive