Every single little **** who thinks he’s entitled to his own opinions Eats liver on the back of the nymphomaniac’s forefront Vulgarity for the sake of such
If there was anything I could tell you It would be to go away I don’t need you here But who are you And what am I? And why is he? And how is she?
Messages of forlorn from me to you You and I Sky is pi And ridiculous atrocities through 10 story buildings
Russian mobsters break my wrists And make it so my wings lift me higher
Let’s speak in forked tongues about the future Let’s speak in future about tongues
I feel like I need more gasoline in my veins I gotta keep going somehow
I’m not writing for you. I used to, I used to, I used to write for you. I still poetically stutter.
Write for me, write for You? Write for me. Writing for me for now. Hopefully there’s a shift in the paradigm.
I just wrote, not for likes, not for anyone. I'm not sure how I feel about it, but I guess somewhere in there is reality.