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"reroute" poems
Kneel before the noose With roars in chest Learnt the humility Abuser wasting his zest Cry at tomorrow returning no sound Frightening silence becomes too much loud Voices of future singing song of the past The Now is broken and the hope lost it's trust Cleching rays of light by stale hand Rotten pride has been betrayed Ravaged shell will be healed again To lead you trough circles of undiscovered pain Blinding light throws me into darkness Prisoner of malice Break your knees In prayer for justice Last breath will take away This painful torture That hates my days Last breath will take me away From this endless learning of pain In morpheus embrace I can dance with saints I was granted new chance But it can't reroute me from hell Endless hopes of salvation Avoiding self-meaning Pray hollow tides for echoes of noble Decomposed spirit Swallow all colors In the search of the path Look back to the forward Beyond the lifetime Rejecting pure energy Forced to escape Innocent memory Will be ravaged again
0
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 8:08 AM UTC
Zest
▪♢▪ I hover above as you write and ponder. Visit your buffaloes and assorted natural wonders. Array of rocks 'n shells Feathers, Eagle, Hawk. Turkey and Peacock. Your collection of critters, they all welcome me. Savion is busy and so, not bothered in the least by my presence,  though it would be such a lovely moment to meet her... My memories gleefully take a hitch on the back of yours. I playfully wonder if I shall be noticed.. as you are yet unaware of my decision, upon invitation, to join you. I love to travel...any way I can. Today, this is the trip for me! Memory at will. To visit with a color, a scent, a touch, a hurt, a joy. To explore a memory yet unopened. Woodlands, Wetlands and Deserts Descending deep into the Canyons, down to the river. While here, venture the rapids. Then, on to the Dead Sea and the Rose colored Himalayan Salt Caves. Dolphins to visit and sing in chorus, beneath the ocean waters. Oh, how I have missed them. As is the luxury of Memory travel, We are weightless and soundless.  Have no odor, can swim and fly. We are able at will, to tap into Ancient Knowledge. The memories that have come before us, our gift as a shared consciousness. We visit our happiest of times. A delight to have and to hold. Often, we become immersed in the our most troubled experiances. Reliving them over and over. We are able to reroute a memory at will,for our pleasure or to indulge in pain, or a blame. Our minds are a rich labyrinth of hopes, dreams and remembrances. Join in the fun. You can at will. Thanks for taking this little trip with me. ▪♢▪ Posting of 'Memory' by W L Winter. It is  posted below "Hitchin' a Ride" Or find with link http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1310736/memory/ Or just take a visit on over to W.L.Winter's site and luxuriate in the Bountiful Beauty of his Poetry.
0
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 1:39 PM UTC
Hitchin' a Ride Inspired by W.L.Winter's "Memory"
▪♢▪ I hover above as you write and ponder. Visit your buffaloes and assorted natural wonders. Array of rocks 'n shells Feathers, Eagle, Hawk. Turkey and Peacock. Your collection of critters, they all welcome me. Savion is busy and so, not bothered in the least by my presence,  though it would be such a lovely moment to meet her... My memories gleefully take a hitch on the back of yours. I playfully wonder if I shall be noticed.. as you are yet unaware of my decision, upon invitation, to join you. I love to travel...any way I can. Today, this is the trip for me! Memory at will. To visit with a color, a scent, a touch, a hurt, a joy. To explore a memory yet unopened. Woodlands, Wetlands and Deserts Descending deep into the Canyons, down to the river. While here, venture the rapids. Then, on to the Dead Sea and the Rose colored Himalayan Salt Caves. Dolphins to visit and sing in chorus, beneath the ocean waters. Oh, how I have missed them. As is the luxury of Memory travel, We are weightless and soundless.  Have no odor, can swim and fly. We are able at will, to tap into Ancient Knowledge. The memories that have come before us, our gift as a shared consciousness. We visit our happiest of times. A delight to have and to hold. Often, we become immersed in the our most troubled experiances. Reliving them over and over. We are able to reroute a memory at will,for our pleasure or to indulge in pain, or a blame. Our minds are a rich labyrinth of hopes, dreams and remembrances. Join in the fun. You can at will. Thanks for taking this little trip with me. ▪♢▪ Posting of 'Memory' by W L Winter. It is  posted below "Hitchin' a Ride" Or find with link http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1310736/memory/ Or just take a visit on over to W.L.Winter's site and luxuriate in the Bountiful Beauty of his Poetry.
Continue reading...
63
Going back to what you know. All the signs tellin you to stop, Reroute, it's not the way to go It's just not the same, Couldn't be maintained Left to decay in the time lapsed collapsed and what remains is a husk that just adds to the echo of the pain you ran here to escape Walls of dust clinging onto the pasts shape Dissipating Fallin away Fillin your lungs along with all those things you failed to get off your chest along the way *And you wonder why you can't breath? Why your heart got so heavy it fell off your sleeve? Why your mind stole your dreams and now you can't sleep? Why your faith was overrun by your worries and now You can't believe?!* Even here Collapsing on your knees choking back the tears As you try to put it back together piece by piece But it's gone. There's nothing here for you anymore You must leave the road lead nowhere And nowhere is where this road leads A circle always comes up empty No matter how far you reach Be an exile. Find your feet In less polluted airs Fill up those lungs Where you have space to breathe Pick up that heart with the strength it took to take the leap Towards the Fresh Start no decay, no debris. Come out the Dark you'll be ok, you will see well enough in time to carve your own path Be Free
0
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 8:48 PM UTC
Fresh Start
When I think about my future I can't see anything. It's blurry and always has been. Except with you. When I try to reroute my plans, I cannot handle the thought of you not by my side. I ruined everything. Because I don't know how to love. I know I love you, though. I just don't know in what way. I wish I had the answers that would set us free. Even if that freedom means you no longer beside me.
0
Sep 1, 2017
Sep 1, 2017 at 6:07 AM UTC
What Does it Mean to Love You?
The next time you tell a woman she’s beautiful, you will mean it less — because you have already meant it most. She looks like a safe bet. How boring for you. She will never make your hands shake when you try to button your shirt — the buttons slipping like stones from your fingers, like your body forgot how to be steady because someone like me was looking at you. It was never that serious. Except, maybe, it was. She will never make you reroute your whole life just to cross her path. She won’t know what it’s like to catch you looking at her mouth like it’s a dare you want to take — but we know you’re all talk. She wasn’t a hard person to love. She was just a girl who knew how to sit still. And you — you were just a man who had only ever loved things that were easy to set down. You wanted something simple — a woman like a neatly folded sweater: wrinkle-resistant, polishes you up, easy to pick up, easier to put away. But simple things never ruin your appetite. They never make you whisper, "God, what’s wrong with me?" because you can’t stop thinking about the car crash in your rib cage that you wrote off as a particularly bad day. But some bruises bloom twice, and some wrecks keep ringing in your ears. I was never easy to love — but God, I was worth it. And when I was yours, you were someone better. Isn’t that just vile? It was never serious. Except, apparently, it was. Now I hope you choke on how simple it feels. I hope you spend the rest of your life wondering why you never had to catch your breath when you kissed her. I hope her laugh sounds too much like mine. I hope you hear my name in her silence. I hope she kisses you in a dark bar, and for one awful second, you forget whose lips are on yours. I hope you miss me across midnights and hate yourself for it. I hope my scent won’t wash out of sheets I’ve never slept on — like something you swore you imagined, until you smell it again. I hope you never stop searching out my poems, then deleting your history. I hope certain lines jangle like change in your pocket over every street you’ll ever walk. I hope the sharpest edges of my words are so embedded in your psyche, you can’t remember if it's a Vonnegut quote, your own inner monologue, or me — your real favorite writer. I know I’ll never hear from you again — but when you quote me in your head, I hope you taste blood. I hope you keep walking — but never walk away clean. It was never that serious. Except, I guess, it was.
0
Mar 16, 2025
Mar 16, 2025 at 7:13 AM UTC
the next time you tell a woman she's beautiful
The next time you tell a woman she’s beautiful, you will mean it less — because you have already meant it most. She looks like a safe bet. How boring for you. She will never make your hands shake when you try to button your shirt — the buttons slipping like stones from your fingers, like your body forgot how to be steady because someone like me was looking at you. It was never that serious. Except, maybe, it was. She will never make you reroute your whole life just to cross her path. She won’t know what it’s like to catch you looking at her mouth like it’s a dare you want to take — but we know you’re all talk. She wasn’t a hard person to love. She was just a girl who knew how to sit still. And you — you were just a man who had only ever loved things that were easy to set down. You wanted something simple — a woman like a neatly folded sweater: wrinkle-resistant, polishes you up, easy to pick up, easier to put away. But simple things never ruin your appetite. They never make you whisper, "God, what’s wrong with me?" because you can’t stop thinking about the car crash in your rib cage that you wrote off as a particularly bad day. But some bruises bloom twice, and some wrecks keep ringing in your ears. I was never easy to love — but God, I was worth it. And when I was yours, you were someone better. Isn’t that just vile? It was never serious. Except, apparently, it was. Now I hope you choke on how simple it feels. I hope you spend the rest of your life wondering why you never had to catch your breath when you kissed her. I hope her laugh sounds too much like mine. I hope you hear my name in her silence. I hope she kisses you in a dark bar, and for one awful second, you forget whose lips are on yours. I hope you miss me across midnights and hate yourself for it. I hope my scent won’t wash out of sheets I’ve never slept on — like something you swore you imagined, until you smell it again. I hope you never stop searching out my poems, then deleting your history. I hope certain lines jangle like change in your pocket over every street you’ll ever walk. I hope the sharpest edges of my words are so embedded in your psyche, you can’t remember if it's a Vonnegut quote, your own inner monologue, or me — your real favorite writer. I know I’ll never hear from you again — but when you quote me in your head, I hope you taste blood. I hope you keep walking — but never walk away clean. It was never that serious. Except, I guess, it was.
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75
Icecream you are a sick disease But here I am With a spoon in my mouth, Eating you up like a champ, Licking every last drop in the bowl, Believing I am the sickness And you are the cure You are the future You stop time Dead in its tracks You reroute the train Long after its detailed So I stop and I think Dr icecream You are  hired !
0
Sep 3, 2020
Sep 3, 2020 at 11:29 PM UTC
Job interview
I've been taking a circuitous route Only camels and Arabs Know what I'm talking about. Round and round and round My mind turns about. Now never again in my life Will I try to doubt Who I am and where I will be. When the evil within tries to get out. Its time to reroute./ I've gotta reroute. / I've got to get up on my feet And shout. / I've wasted too much time asleep. Only ****** at myself Because during the time I've spent Trying to dig deep into her/ I have totally forgetten Where I was and who they were./ Those who held me back/ gave me plenty of hugs and daps/ but made my time on earth a blur./ I love my brothers so/ And I lift them up When they're low/ But when it's time to go/ **** its times to go./ Open up my crusted eyes And let the Suns holy glow/ Help me grow./ I just hope that when I rise I begin to know I've been taking a circuitous route Only camels and Arabs Know what I'm talking about. Round and round and round My mind turns about. But never again in my life Will I try to doubt Who I am and where I will be. Camels and Arabs/ I often wish I could walk The land that they have./ Yet, I walk the land Of trends and fads/ Expensive homes and tags/ That make me see everything I do not have./ Only to drag me further away From my true path./ Desensitizing me of What I'm not suppose to have/ And throwing me on that circuitous route./ Now that I've figured all this **** out./ I'm going to backtrack on my life And add in everything I left out. / Reconstructing my mind To make it my vibrant home. So when they ask and say "Klash, what took so long?" I would reply I've been taking a circuitous route Only camels and Arabs Know what I'm talking about.
0
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 11:54 PM UTC
"Camels and Arabs"
I've been taking a circuitous route Only camels and Arabs Know what I'm talking about. Round and round and round My mind turns about. Now never again in my life Will I try to doubt Who I am and where I will be. When the evil within tries to get out. Its time to reroute./ I've gotta reroute. / I've got to get up on my feet And shout. / I've wasted too much time asleep. Only ****** at myself Because during the time I've spent Trying to dig deep into her/ I have totally forgetten Where I was and who they were./ Those who held me back/ gave me plenty of hugs and daps/ but made my time on earth a blur./ I love my brothers so/ And I lift them up When they're low/ But when it's time to go/ **** its times to go./ Open up my crusted eyes And let the Suns holy glow/ Help me grow./ I just hope that when I rise I begin to know I've been taking a circuitous route Only camels and Arabs Know what I'm talking about. Round and round and round My mind turns about. But never again in my life Will I try to doubt Who I am and where I will be. Camels and Arabs/ I often wish I could walk The land that they have./ Yet, I walk the land Of trends and fads/ Expensive homes and tags/ That make me see everything I do not have./ Only to drag me further away From my true path./ Desensitizing me of What I'm not suppose to have/ And throwing me on that circuitous route./ Now that I've figured all this **** out./ I'm going to backtrack on my life And add in everything I left out. / Reconstructing my mind To make it my vibrant home. So when they ask and say "Klash, what took so long?" I would reply I've been taking a circuitous route Only camels and Arabs Know what I'm talking about.
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66
Just a moment in this lifetime, Just a tragedy ahead, Not knowing where each turn will lead, Within seconds we might be dead, Live each day to the fullest, Don't stop to wonder why, Do everything your heart desires, In dreams, reach for the sky. Surprises at every stop sign, With it's share of wrong ways and dead-ends. Statistics dont help you with the future, They only tell you where you've been. With so many people among us, There are no certainties. All it takes is just one person, To reroute history. Don't waste one single moment, How very precious that they are, What seems a long way off, Is really not that far.
0
Dec 3, 2010
Dec 3, 2010 at 2:06 PM UTC
Seize The Day
Rumble strips and road trips Drive until I catch the night Right shoulder tears for all my fears Thruways admit I lost the fight. An eye for an eye Left turn for left turn GPSs always lie A truth for a truth Reroute our directions but we'll Never regain our wasted youth. Now again I'm drifting off The road signs mean I'm never lost But the rumble strip will always grind Until I forget what I drove to find. Highway markers flashing by In tired hate I wonder why Until the sun must also rise This painful day will be reprised. Hands off the wheel, forget to blink This desolate night is not what you think A split second glance in my rearview Confirms what I already knew For though my stance to run was wrong There's no denying you were in the back seat all along.
0
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 4:01 PM UTC
Rumble Strips
growing closer to where asking questions is cancer waiting for an answer. essays, and mindwaves, and backspins, and moon rays. Eyes above my mind, but it’s the truth now that makes me blind. and all the pathways i can’t find because somehow they have left me far behind. the density that carries my mind, like lead floating on air: casually undefined. but there exists a lie i’ve told a truth behind - told in fast forward but experienced in rewind. the fluids become ink and words against your spine, while worlds reroute and minds align. it becomes a certain sign that the best hand is held by time - who rewrites headlines that forget to remind the stock dialogue for the witness of the crime. back again, past enemy lines, at least we have explosives we can hide behind. so remember those who will perish
 in the war and all the truths that
 they died for 
but it was the only way
 really, to even the score.
0
Jan 29, 2012
Jan 29, 2012 at 11:37 PM UTC
cost of war
Every day is the same thing, the same routine. Every morning I wake up earlier than I would like too, and waste my daylight inside a confined concrete building that feeds off of conformed thinking and dead end ideas. Seated at desks, row after row, are robots in training being programmed by words written on white walls with various colors, coded for correction. We walk the halls of so- called "social structure" like veins and arteries with no source of life. Sit. Stand. Strut. No strolling. We must coagulate with the clicks of the clock. Strive. They cut our wires and reroute them periodically. Don't soar. Stay. They have us tied down by the laces of our shoes to keep us here, to keep us from wandering, because wandering leads to wondering. We are each a 12 point letter, of the same font, standing, double spaced, staring at the same blank paper in front of us. Except every now and then, there's someone that gives off a little more reception than is acceptable. Between the cords connecting our control panels is cartilage, flowing through our system software is life and thoughts and memory. When our thumb drive is hooked up to our monitor, our eyes open bigger, with three cones, we see a spectrum that was once incapable. When we leave our daily life with a wrong, or right, turn we feel the drops of water falling from the sky on our hands and we don't immediately go up in flames, instead we let out a sigh of relief. The next day I try to install this into others, but only to be told I am simply short circuited. But I know better now, I am not malfunctioning. I was struck by lightning and now my brain is storming.
0
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 1:06 PM UTC
Brainstorm
Every day is the same thing, the same routine. Every morning I wake up earlier than I would like too, and waste my daylight inside a confined concrete building that feeds off of conformed thinking and dead end ideas. Seated at desks, row after row, are robots in training being programmed by words written on white walls with various colors, coded for correction. We walk the halls of so- called "social structure" like veins and arteries with no source of life. Sit. Stand. Strut. No strolling. We must coagulate with the clicks of the clock. Strive. They cut our wires and reroute them periodically. Don't soar. Stay. They have us tied down by the laces of our shoes to keep us here, to keep us from wandering, because wandering leads to wondering. We are each a 12 point letter, of the same font, standing, double spaced, staring at the same blank paper in front of us. Except every now and then, there's someone that gives off a little more reception than is acceptable. Between the cords connecting our control panels is cartilage, flowing through our system software is life and thoughts and memory. When our thumb drive is hooked up to our monitor, our eyes open bigger, with three cones, we see a spectrum that was once incapable. When we leave our daily life with a wrong, or right, turn we feel the drops of water falling from the sky on our hands and we don't immediately go up in flames, instead we let out a sigh of relief. The next day I try to install this into others, but only to be told I am simply short circuited. But I know better now, I am not malfunctioning. I was struck by lightning and now my brain is storming.
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4
I’m walking with my head down, I look up and i’ve been walking in circles this whole time -time to reroute
0
Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 2:36 PM UTC
Circles
Sitting here in my lonely cell Thinking I'm sitting in a living hell I wander about days long ago Now this new life is all I seem to know Changing seems like such a task But I cant go on wearing a metaphorical mask My life took a detour and I need to reroute Some one please save me I need a way out I know i can change I just need a shove And I'll be off flying high like a free floating dove I need to give it up for all that its worth Given the opportunity I can conquer the earth My life can be great I just need to try I need to push through or I'll be summoned to die For everyone out there I'm going to change Our friendship shall grow with such great range
0
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 3:38 AM UTC
Change
I can't figure out The color of your eyes, It intrigues me. I can't figure out What lies behind them, It fatigues me. Please just relieve me And give rise To what's behind the disguise That perplexes me. Please just fulfill me plea And explain exactly What it means When you look at me With those blues and greens. I think you feel it too But the doubt just intervenes. And it could fall through, The plans I thought might ensue. Usually I can just look through And subdue feelings like these, But my heart can't Ignore what it sees And my mind can't Deny, it agrees That when you look at me With those eyes It implies That this defies The norm And what underlies Will take form. Please just resolve This confusion I bear. Please just dissolve This despair that we share. I swear, I won't dare Drop my feelings If you care. I don't mind a reroute If this isn't what you're about. I just can't figure you out.
0
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 12:25 PM UTC
Windows
Brainstorm cometh, damning frontal hemisphere jamming lookout, noggin perched, roiling thinking uber wayfaring zealot, drills legendary phalanx. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Writer's block afflicts Das scribe, who **** now stricken supine adept dull livery sub par excellence his gold standard worse thus, another day to slog thru arduous process crafting admirable verse wrestling behemoth loosed ****** dodging enfilade broadcast sos terse. N'er easy chore to fashion acceptable word worth poem to whit staring at flickering accursed cursor doth blank stare visit flash flooding warning saturated gray matter fist sized unit groundswell burgeoning leveed banks barging signals transmit urgent army corps of engineers to reroute via sluice, sans surfeit apprentice longshoreman doth double duty as grammarian sought to retrofit arduous struggle ensues, where drowning affects consummation strong temptation quit ditch ching progress made, thus far in hot pursuit mind comfortably numb stream of consciousness submerges concentration entrenched deep posit craftiness sentenced to punctuate disequilibrium doth outwit venerably beaded trademark Scottish matted flair abandoned unfinished poem left forever stranded orbit zero escape velocity zinging, unsprung, pinging mindscape nonprofit able endeavor reflecting zeitgeist bombarding Messerschmitt undermining, strafing, disabling cutting crew rescue outer limit faint feint blinking in the twilight zone.
0
Jun 1, 2018
Jun 1, 2018 at 6:28 PM UTC
Plumb Line Hoisted Deep
I missed you more than amphetamines, or hollow holy vows sprouting out of me. you used to reroute my scowls and transform them into smiles, but no curve of any lips are quite like your's. I don't know how you do it or how you did it, it sickens me nights, it's been hard to word things and I feel so empty, with a cavernous head and a dread of the feeling that I've been feeling, I need comforting. we haven't talked in ages, I wrote this by a state line, I was so close to breaking that I stopped laughing about my problems. It's been tainting my happiness, further proving, that gaping hole I've grown to know.
0
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 9:46 AM UTC
royal.
I take it back... there's at least one thing to see and hear in the Varrio on my block..... Eli the poet who's 10 times been shot.   His philosophy resounds with me and I must give him credit for at least two or three. . . Pearls of wisdom that Mellifluously flew from his mouth... inspired by something deep in his soul that had to come out which my hand snatched from his air to pencil as poetry and to all of you reroute
0
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 9:47 PM UTC
The Varrio 2
I climbed aboard a train that took me Further and faster Than others on horseback. Yet now I'm desperate: The map is all wrong, These stations I pass are those I wanted most to avoid. I want to change direction, But see only miles and miles Of straight track ahead. Will there be another junction, A crossing of tracks, A way to reroute, To change course? Or is the only option Derailment?
0
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 2:04 PM UTC
To the Un-trained I
In troubled times and hard times, I get strong and my faith shines. Even if I'm down without dimes, That's the best time God shines. At the end of my very last try when curled up and ready to cry, faith nudges and urges me to cope That's when I reach for dear hope. In the middle of my roughest storms, I fight to hang on to the bull's horns Even if the wait is long and perilous I stay determined and remain courageous. Even though I waddle in some trials I toughen up and walk the extra miles. Even if the walk lead to unfamiliar places, I'll always reroute and finish my races. IvanBrookspoetry©️ Bassapoet✍️ 6.6.2019
0
Jun 6, 2019
Jun 6, 2019 at 4:21 AM UTC
In Times Of Trials
Tell me now are you ready to start? It's time to evolve yourself, Figure out everything to do right. When everyone says stop, are you gonna go? Only the ones that follow there own, Only the ones that will stand out, Only the ones not giving up, Make it better from the start. Will you go further than most? Those that won't try hard enough, Those get left behind, Those that won't care enough, Those will fall apart. Tell me so you think your living life? Do you do what you please to decide, Does nobody deprive you of that, Don't you, don't you fall back. So now are you leaning on? Can't rely on what's behind to catch. Are you the fish in the sea? Figure out how to cast the hook instead, Far enough that people can't see, Don't fear just reel it back in. Now everyone is telling you your changing? That's the time you advance as an individual, When your seeking out what you believe, Start sailing the 7 seas. When your discovering your mind, People will try polluting it in time. Is this all ideas inside? Than don't reroute the course for par, Do all this for yourself, Shoot for eagles like a star. Have you achieved this belief? Give yourself a pad on the back, Than say thank you, thank you, Simply for the power to succeed.
0
Jan 26, 2018
Jan 26, 2018 at 11:26 PM UTC
Ask yourself
i find it unnecessary to exchange mixtures of letters with the receiver i once did see me engaging in foreseen endeavors with but history tore me and we though i now retract exceptions are had such as when i choose to detract the warmth i had way back in the past when our fire did not brand but did attract us to one another not like now and how it knows how to protract to engulf us to turn good into bad i release resistant exhales and doubt on newfound callousness i once could reroute only when allowed by a sizable payout even if along the way it cracks the heart i once had and the heart i once had sworn on my life to pass for before i let it pass.
0
Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 2:39 AM UTC
180o[f]
I find flaws in here and in all of y'all Born upright but bound to fall Stand tall but a little bend in your step A little more weight to add to your rep Want a feeling to give to the people Give 'em equal before I give them the sequel Most can only handle one thing as time Just pour tequila in the glass Just give me a lime No need for the salt It's late and your fault That was your one ticket to get in my vault Been locked out Time to reroute Please know what your about I'm about soul and rhythm Personal creeds Putting my spirit wants above my physical needs
0
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 8:14 PM UTC
Lyrics on the fly