There's danger in the lines of these rhymes I make
Maybe I shouldn't tell you but it's kinda late
You should probably be concerned with my mental state
I fear I'm a product of this culture
Just another soul convinced it's over
A vulture, the poacher, taking fall to this world of overexposure
I feast on a past that's dead
Can't escape the thoughts in my head
I feel the pull begin as my faith will drain
I plummet on the thought that my mind's insane
My heart is with you somewhere but my head's not safe
The truth is all around my but my mind's not made