What kind of **** is this
Epitomy of death
Washing out the crevices
From the mental grips
Of americana
Fresh elevation
And dead presidents.
Medicine fed
Steven said.
Even when
Elephants forget
We remember again.

We were never a thing
I guess that just soaked into
My brain ***.
I could elevate my fame up
But never have you
Wait up.
On me and want my chain up
On your stained glass
Pain of.
Mirror ice. And  represent my
Same love.
Steven. You the same ****
I hate ***.
I thought we were special
Its eventual.
Medicine to drank up.
Till than ill just take a loss
Clank up. Glass
Spill. Cheers and drank up