Has their ever been an original thought?
I swear everything I say
Has either been broken, stolen, or bought.
And I rot with the shame of it,
Feeling I falsely carve in my name.
I’m trying to find the right path
On this road to fame,
Citing a hundred-plus peeps a day,
Though on the real,
Those just the ones I can name.

In this game,
These bouncing ***** just                            on back,
                                                      bounce
My eyes are bouncing,
I’ll get the knack.
The frame constructed
Of things to come,
My vision obstructed,
Well, isn’t this fun?