Seemingly happy and content, predictably raspy and spent
Run circles around raps, legs snapped behind my back in splints
Incoming; false facts flood in from the pen
Jack over gin and I’m at it again
Twin of troublesome Huck Finn, let the wax spin
Double shot of ***, some luck, and I’ll begin
Complicate the weak, like grease on the lens
It’s clear like mud, crud crease in the depends