My identity is split, as i lunge and resist.
Do my lungs really breathe when i indulge in phrenic constants?
Swear I'm the same when I'm different, my barbaric nonsense
In a barn with imposters, standing with improbable postures
Grazing over fallible pastures while praying to fawl pasters
Part of me feels like one of the sheep grazing for masters.
And the other part working on getting my masters, degree for some fast cars...
Can't breathe because monsters need me to get gassed up
So i smoke when it's mad tough
Better than a rope in the backdrop, i mean a noose in my back yard
Weight on my chest makes it mad hard, for a phrenic pit stop, where i can breathe and resist some, craving from twitch drugs
Seems i don't breathe with my lungs, since they're in need of warm hugs..
As such, my phrenic nerves speak to my heart with an infallible grudge