I can put words together.

I can put words together.
My actions confusing with words, vendetta.

If this was a war, we lost.
Diffusing a bomb with cost.

Catching it all, but no Randy Moss.
Lately I’m always *******.
Trying to find balance between these worlds is difficult; covered my passions in scars and pain with ridicule.
Lately, they ask what’s got into you.

A cloud in my mind but it’s spiritual.

Diamonds all in my heart are biblical.

Trying to find peace in residuals.

I won’t let them finish me.
The world on my back.
They stepping on cracks and it’s breaking my back, but somehow my heart is attached.

That’s how I perceive a relapse.