I live inside your maze of creations,
slowly smokin’ blunts one after the
other, trying to block you out my mind.
Still, I can see your hypnotizing flame
igniting contradictory conjunctions
within my soul, splittin’ light and truth
from my inner invention.  This **** makes
no sense.  I’m sick of embracing the seas
that have no rhythm, no beating drums,
no harmonizing horizons.  My bloodshot
eyes are high off your intoxicating dimension,
lost in those harboring galaxies that keep
reeling me inside your mugshot world.
I can feel massive earthquakes swirling
and swirling deep in my guts, burnin’
sensations on overload, ******’ with
my foundation, diminishin’ the equations
of my kingdom.  And as I sip on this Patron,
the fiery liquor flaming my insides, remindin’
me that I have sunken inside your ship,
remindin’ me that no matter how far
I run, your swelling drug will always
be inside my system, steady creatin’
sporadic thoughts and confusion,
spinning my somber world into shattered
illusions.