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dean63Poems
He talks about his days they’re almost over The headstone is a truth told entirely in lies Soldiers on for the sake of nostalgia Counts his smarts like the lines on a dial Fakes it like a real man Caught by the feeling, meets the ceiling as a ghost Monuments to skin those days are over A healthy dose of same ain’t enough to keep it down No one left to blame, by the time it hits the ground Working against the blood flow, I thought I’d know me a bit by now But we’re all stuck in limbo Frontin’ its own occasion Wading out with lead boots, down the line Get me off that straight and narrow Call to arms that magistrate, its a crime Working against the blood flow, I thought I’d know me a bit by now But we’re all stuck in limbo..
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Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 9:27 AM UTC
Pacifico
He talks about his days they’re almost over The headstone is a truth told entirely in lies Soldiers on for the sake of nostalgia Counts his smarts like the lines on a dial Fakes it like a real man Caught by the feeling, meets the ceiling as a ghost Monuments to skin those days are over A healthy dose of same ain’t enough to keep it down No one left to blame, by the time it hits the ground Working against the blood flow, I thought I’d know me a bit by now But we’re all stuck in limbo Frontin’ its own occasion Wading out with lead boots, down the line Get me off that straight and narrow Call to arms that magistrate, its a crime Working against the blood flow, I thought I’d know me a bit by now But we’re all stuck in limbo..
dean63
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dean63
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 9:27 AM UTC
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