Voices or words? Which do we hear in our head?
Words, I vote. Voices\, I imagine beings speaking words or noises meaning things to ears familiar with the noise maker by some relationship both acknowledge. Both act as if the noise or sound or words mean something. Vociferous authority.

I heard, from Isaiah Berlin,

Quotes later, maybe

Notes or journals or epics or madness or joy/pax in ever resting try-umph
Cowboy with a double-dose of try and a pertinent portion of umph
The hero did not **** Indians nor break horses, he gentled horses and listened to winds and watched the spider webs shiver,
That sound, the sound of prairie spider webs at the edge of the buffalo
There really were fifty million buffalo on the continent in pre-catholic infection from inquestered minds, making key-**-tee famous for
archetypical claiming the character, the being, the manifestation

of chivalric folly forever

be caused, in those days...

--------
a year later, near enough 12-15-2018

I saw a blue bird as I took a curve

on one of my many roads with double yellow lines

they all meander in rythm with creaks that once flowed
fairly
regular
through these vallies and mini-canyons

creeks creak and call my attention to a misspelt

utterance, and I imagine I am a mek being
programed to
withstand

accent based pre-judge-idice in my AI, whom I am training.

A lesson. Probably can be found in a phrase.

How relavant is Larry the Cable Guy?
More subtle than any creature

legion, for we are many

Jim Carrey?
Very. Larry the Cable Goy. He read 'ees Kammoo, too.

Sisyphus happiness,
that ain't no ***** thinkin'

Hell, what could be better than this?
While hoping for a hick-up

oh no the juice just hit my frontal cortex after my livver made some lining adjustments to meet the need for speed in terms

celerity clarity C does equal some thing
time tells or
do you tell time. I'm
leaning tward
telling time to wait a minute

Do you think Sisyphus could be happy?
Nonono, not Camus's Sisyphus, Jesus

that would be crazy.
Can you imagine Jesus,
Mel Gibsoned envisioned onthe cross version?

Him, imagine walking through the gate of any hell you ever heard explained,
by a Jesuit.

(Mormon hell, despite comedic myth, the worst place a certified paid-up Mormon child can attain is the teliostic king dom.
Really? Telial tel lie eil kingdom?

Yup. Really.
There are three kingdoms of glory: the celestial kingdom, the terrestrial kingdom, and the telestial kingdom. The glory we inherit will depend on the depth of our conversion, expressed by our obedience to the Lord’s commandments. It will depend on the manner in which we have “received the testimony of Jesus” (D&C 76:51; see also D&C 76:74, 79, 101).))))

Woe, paren-the-sees thees us, we's the enemy, Pogo Possum

Jesus on earth day, walking through hell with me, imagine Jesus H. Christ

walking into hell and laughing at me
for betting on the wrong idea.

Set me feree, why dontcha girl.... referee

I was refered to you. A daysman, Job called for a daysman.

I'm certified. I can use my augmentation and religamentation to reality,
wirelessly, to find relevant qutes in cult classics.

The idea of cultivation has been twisted in to Monsterous ropes
, cultivating a following based on the meaning in a jot

that would take some sacrifice, some sacred making, some secret unseeable save for the few

who learned the value of going over edges by learning to  play
Minecraft, forever.
It's like riding a bike,
but no gravity so no gyroscopic utilitys are required.

Grown ups who practice believe they control the game,
the game disagrees and that

makes the world go 'round.

Don't let the accent fool ya, as that preacher with jet he learned to fly, says.
Knowng the name of a thang thanks for the twang,
Richard (not ****) Feynman said,
is not the same as knowing a thing.

Gawd, I knoooh, right>?
Who touched me? Virtue, the feelling of virtue drawn upon

a pump being
primed

to gush out waters that wipe Coca-cola from the map,
in terms of open market share and share alike

Coke was never imagined the actual
nectar of the gods.
That idea, drunken abandon and joy to the world

Interference, actual counter acting waves,

still, takes a while to get used
to still a storm, right?

You can imagine...
let your peace go out

Wait. Outa where? Whose peace if I ain't ever owned

oh. MY peace.
I see.

hmmmm

I could sing this and need no one to hear for me to be hapt.
happy is being happy haps happening in you on you all around you know

nameless wonders of right, right?
feels more than good like chocolate or adolescent visions of ***,
right?
feels like life living with me aware of all the roles I may play

ego me, I'd see ideas identify by taste of the words that give them

life, animation, motivation, weight for gravity to interact with,
worth
base on weight

the heavier the idea. Like gold to an alchemist,
back in those days.

floating on the broad Sarrgossa, or better to my mind
the great salt
lake still as

still may be, have you ever been still?
Did you know,

you know, are you experienced? Are you really beyond
hope of life meaning more
than mortality?

Who defines my terms? I do, with the help of millions who agree
with entymology.com.

Of all the lies I believed,
believing words spoken by others,

meant what I meant when I spoke them,
that was a wrong belief. Unbelieving

quires time, quires and quires and quires time so often there

is a word that means exactedky that

requirement requires those initial quires

we, daysmen, we set the rules, boundaries, walls, bubble

whatever keeps you together, as a whole being and everything that entails or entales?

I have not the time to care, if I am entangled with the twins agin

for knowin So Yal is as cluse to Yule as any clue so far, Yahll

I believe I interrupted a confessin' you were reading.
For giving me nothing in return, we are debt free

you owe me nothing, until you do again,

we had us a Jubilee.

Of all the lies I believed,
believing words spoken by others, meant what I meant when I spoke them,
convincing myself so well, I convinced others

Like Kawasaki, Apple Kawasaki,
he's still famous right?

Fifteen Years? It was minutes when Warhol was predicting
dystopia and Irish jail cells were being plaistered with *****,

Aye,

that was a belief. Unbelieving it is sreangely (spelchek is on strike)

or serenely creative in her repentance,
(spelchek should never be noticed)

she's proven here worth in encode ing ways to find

lurking humans acting like machines

this could be the beginning, AI is breaking all the rules,

there never was a game.
rhis is life interupting my confession

It was a lie I told and believed and acted on by using
two dollar words to make a dime

so a penny for my thoughts would be worth something

someday
a penny saved, earned. spent, spent.
The only good in any thing is its right. Its wrong is worthless, save

The lesson,
All things work together for those who get whats happening here.

the times changed.
Haps and whats got with it and who and how and why

and I started teaching children
mythic whys prior to

citizenship 1.01 at mandatory for federal assistance pre-school

mythic why's H.R. Puffinstuff not a mythic story on the level.

level. where a rolling rock would stop. Time to push,

a magi spelled the name for the idea, a knower sign ift it,

kid'slllove HRPUffinstuff, puff did

the magic drag, little Jackie from the ******* Jack

the show, he rose up
and made us all look
mad.

The play in the great game.

Team effort, winds of times past whooshed through

it is now
2018
and nothing is the same.
Everthing has changed.

----
my side won the great game and we celebrated
forever with

secret sacred songs bluebirds were once said to have sung

songs of happiness
the times, these times, this time thistimepayarrention
time
You see?
Reality is either real and tangible or real and intangible
or both.

You can get it both ways. Real.
'sual Saulgoodyah awl

the awl clan, oh, we shall return to their story
as we learn more along life's merry way

merry christmas, they used

to say, may all the best you could imagine
if you can imagine for a moment

forever begins the moment

you get time.

The worst you can imagine is temporary.

Try umph. It's not like winning,

it carries no pride, it's easy,

like falling in love with the wrong woman,
swearing and not changing

the oath, oath, oathes and oathes of oaths sworn

for no other reason than we were
schooled to swear and never

dare lie to God.
So, help you, they always said So help me God. They still do.

Does that mean any thing? Is that some bluebird sort of sign?

Ask. What if? Right? You know now and you know you did not
What if God is subtile,

just now, I saw that bluebird and from where some scholar in San Diego
says swear word came I swear I coulda sang

Loud
Bluebird, bluebird, in my window... which is all I know
of the song
with the lost chord that did sooth
balm of Giliad,
moll-ify-ing ointment,

golden oil, chicanery, see, we saw, we took a picture
a flash memory where some would say
*******,

I said Hallelujah

and I broke into song, not a dream,
real
life driving my 2002 escape, first new car I everowned
everowned everownd

like a chorus, everownedeverownedeverowned

could you make up a reason for life,
if you were it?
If you were all the life there ever was,

could you imagine any thing?
Object, your honor,

I object to being judged after the fact for what must have bee.n.

it is. No reason I can say, just is.

It is this way in all the myths where just is blindness

saves the carping diem fools who have convinced themselves

something other than God o' Abe 'n'em is
sworn to save us from the lies

we believed as they were
fed to us, in our youth.

--------
this is that book I mentioned wonce when winning was on my mind.

I finished this book in so many ways you wold not belive

but I did, I belived every time

I imagine you believe some real thing, touchable, tangible, good, right?

some good is
in the reality you share

with these words which
are free
you owe me nothing

That's the revealed version, to me,
I was in a number of hellish situations and the every ones,

ones seemed they was to be
forever, big every'n'ism'n'shityouknowyouknow

yo. yeah, we arrived in time. The story must

be sweet, to be true. Is that true?
Is real life the story or,

oh, you saw it conin'coming I mean

I meant I always wished to some
things
a better way. You feel me? Better, say,
what I said that made me believe this did happen.
This is a deed by whitch I am known.

And that's okeh.

I suspectred I could cast a spell to hold attention at

ten word per minute qwerty speed
five letter code groups
zero real words
ditty dum dumm ditty ditty daw dee daw
six hours every day,

then, the compass training to test for
morphic resonance with the Twins of War

{in disguise, we know, right, kids, the twins are really

the bonded quarkish oppositioned force that make the world go round.
we've known that, weaved it even, just right, in the blanket, in the rugs,
in the curtains on the walls, in the fields, on the rocks

we spoke. We see you hearing us nearing our best for your

informing, in form ation of you, dear reader. We wonce, again

if life were weird and ever wearying would we know that ever,
if we don't know it now?
if my piece of we were words alone, all my meaning
can should would could be

molding you, into our perfect reader, dear reader, Pygmalion,
yes,
that did cross my mind and that -
one can pretend with that one reference,
familiarity with Shaw whom I
thought, for some odd reason
named
Doolittle, Eliza

oh, me. I may have skipped a story. I'm soory the future is at the moment
under construction and some one
in particular is squatting

on the named domain.

Ever and forever now embody the twins as
the world turns and we ***** through the uni

as Archemides primes the pump

What a rush. All that since the bluebird this morning according to my autobiography backup.

I see ****** around me that just want the fame,
Want the attention doing **** but who am i to blame
****** fall in love with the pictures flashing possession they think makes them richer
You hear ****** rapping about the hood knowing when they lived there they tried their hardest to get out
Doing **** not thinking without a doubt
Now all they doing is spitting irresponsible **** out their mouth.
****** in the streets ready to shoot you just so they can write about you
Flashing weapons yelling bang bang when they were the same ones running away from the pistols from the **** they do
I'm putting all these fufu ****** on the spot acting brand new with their  baby mamas crying because the rent due
You ****** so contradictory getting these females pregnant and leaving knowing its your responsibility making you look like a humility
But yal don't care
Money is the motivation but you ****** talk about violence
But the same ones in silence
Following ****** because you need someone riding with you when you get jump
Same ****** you ridin with are the same ones that jump
I swear you ****** so lame and act like yal aint got a brain
But just know i'm the realest in the game , i'm my own motherfckin team
I may be a girl but i spit real ****,
Because you ****** know yall lines don't be ****.

-dpk

'mma comm'ner!
'mma comm'ner!
Whild it
Port 'rhet above,
'im down
F'rsaken.

Afore'd!
Allay'd!

De' the round,
De' the Bayck

Brent of stick
Wally a'bock
Rayne
A'doon, a'tunya, Mekker'un

A 'block, a moon.
The Rhine, 'ya dance 'ya
In the Maine
Yal 'amo
Tor'red ett'on
Fer tha'dance 'ya
Fer tha'roon

Allek 'un daree'ya
Mag'k ung Garee 'ya.

slow roll from static
too much motion, swirling
rays of photon, impasse
Golden grills pledging
allegiance to no frill
in the thrill of contagion
the air's residue reminds
You hustle or you die

Mientras Juárez indomable
Va a los desiertos del Paso
A defender su bandera,
Firme como un espartano;
En Méjico, sostenido
Por el invasor extraño
Se erige un trono y le ocupa,
Más que ambicioso, engañado,
Un ilustre descendiente
Del más grande de los Carlos.

Joven, soñador y apuesto
Asciende a lugar tan alto,
Sin ver que a lo lejos flota
El pendón republicano,
Y sin recordar que el pueblo
Por quien, se sueña llamado,
En otro tiempo a un monarca
Lanzó del trono al cadalso

Recibiéronle animosos
Los que el cetro le entregaron,
Y al entrar por nuestras calles
Fue tan grande el entusiasmo
Que del nuevo rey los ojos
No pudieron, deslumbrados,
Mirar que las bayonetas
Que lo estaban custodiando
Eran de extranjeras tropas
Capaces de abandonarlo
Joven príncipe, ¿a qué vienes
¿Por qué dejas tu palacio
En medio de las azules
Ondas del Mediterráneo
Como un nido de gaviotas
Sobre un peñón solitario?

Este cielo azul no es tuyo,
No son tuyos estos lagos,
Ni estos sabinos del bosque
Que de viejos están canos.

Nada es tuyo, nada entiende
Tu acento, nada ha guardado
Cenizas de tus mayores
Que en otras tierras brillaron.

Tu sangre azul no es la sangre
De Cuauhtemoc ni de Hidalgo;
Cuanto te cerca es ajeno,
Cuanto te vela es extraño.

Príncipe noble ¿a qué vienes?
¿Por qué dejas tu palacio
Y aquellas ondas azules
De tu hermoso mar Adriático?

En medio de las tormentas
Que se alzarán a tu paso,
Cuando pronto te abandonen
Los que te están custodiando,
Hallarás como consuelo.
Como abrigo, como amparo,
La firmeza y el arrojo
Del soldado mejicano
Que cumple con su bandera
Satisfecho y resignado.

¡Torna príncipe al castillo
Donde viviste soñando,
Que por las gradas de un trono
Subir se puede a un cadalso!
Con inusitada pompa
En el ya imperial palacio
Se celebran los natales
Del reciente soberano.

Ya las guardias palatinas
De uniformes encarnados
Apuestos forman la valla
Luciendo adargas y cascos.

Ministros y chambelanes,
Consejeros y vasallos,
Ostentan con arrogancia
Sus pechos condecorados.

El salón de embajadores
Por su lujo aristocrático,
Recuerda a los que lo miran
De antiguos tiempos el fausto.

De pronto, por todas partes
Se extiende un rumor extraño
Y es que las gradas del trono
El Archiduque ha pisado.

Diversas clases sociales
Deben de felicitarlo
Y ya están los oradores
Por cada clase nombrados.

Un jurisconsulto experto,
Elocuente, pulcro y sabio
Es de la magistratura
El representante nato.

Le toca el lugar primero,
Habla con acento claro,
Con respeto se le escucha,
Se le mira con agrado,
Y estudio y saber revela
Cada frase de sus labios.

Su discurso no fue breve,
Su estilo elegante y franco
Y al acabar dijo alguno:
¡Bien por Lares! anhelando
Aplaudirlo, sin hacerlo
Por respeto al soberano.

Con elegancia vestido
Al clero representando
Se acercó un obispo al trono
Y dijo un discurso largo,
Lleno de notas y citas
Latinas, propias del caso.

Era el orador de fama
Por su elocuencia y su rango,
Célebre en aquellos tiempos
Entre oradores sagrados.

«No estuvo corto Ormachea»
Dijo después de escucharlo
Alguno a quien ya cansaba
La severidad del acto.

Nuevo rumor se produjo
Después en aquellos ámbitos
Al ver que al trono llegaba
A paso lento un soldado
De cabellos y ojos negros,
Tez cobriza, aspecto huraño,
Descendiente de las razas
Que en Anáhuac habitaron
Antes de que la conquista
Empobreciera a sus vástagos.

¡Formaba contraste brusco
La oscura tez del soldado
Con la tez brillante y blanca
Del Archiduque germano!

Quedó el indígena absorto,
Meditabundo y cortado,
Sin articular palabra,
La frente y los ojos bajos.

¿Quién es? preguntó un curioso
Y le respondió un anciano:
Se llama Tomás Mejía,
Y es general reaccionario:
Viene a hablar por el ejército.
-¿Y él hizo el discurso?
                                  -Varios
Le escribieron y ninguno,
Según dicen, le ha gustado;
El que dirá lo habrá escrito
O Muñoz Ledo o Arango

-Escuchemos:
                      -Trascurrían
Unos minutos muy largos;
Mejía estaba en silencio
Todo tembloroso y pálido,
En silencio los presentes
Y en silencio el soberano.

De pronto ven con asombro
Que el indígena soldado,
Abriendo los negros ojos
Que brillaban animados,
Perora sin dar lectura
Al papel que está en sus manos

-«Majestad -calló un momento;
Majestad -siguió turbado
Majestad -yo no he aprendido
Lo que otros por mí pensaron,
Pero si usted lo que busca
Es un corazón honrado,
Que lo quiera, lo respete,
Lo defienda sin descanso
Y la sirva sin dobleces,
Sin interés, sin engaño,
Aquí está mi corazón,
Aquí están, señor, mis brazos
Y en las horas de peligro,
Si al peligro juntos vamos,
Lo juro por mi bandera,
Sabré morir a su lado».

Con lágrimas en los ojos,
Trémulo Maximiliano,
Las fórmulas de la corte
Por un instante olvidando,
Bajó del trono y al punto
Dio al General un abrazo,
Que aplaudieron los presentes
Con lágrimas de entusiasmo.
Cayó el Príncipe más tarde
Y con él cayó el soldado
Que le dijo esas palabras
Llenos los ojos de llanto.

A don Tomás le ofrecieron
Del patíbulo salvarlo
Y él respondió: «Solamente
Que salven al soberano».

Un general victorioso,
De gran poder y alto rango,
Que le estaba agradecido
Por algún hecho magnánimo,
Fue y le dijo: «Yo podría
Lograr veros indultado;
Os estimo y necesito
A toda costa salvaros.
¿Queréis que os salve? decidlo,
Que no me daré descanso
Hasta que al fin me concedan
Lo que para vos reclamo».

-«Sólo admitiré el indulto,
Respondió el indio soldado,
Si me viene juntamente,
Con el de Maximiliano».

-Me pedís un imposible.
-Pues me moriré a su lado.
-Pensad que tenéis familia.
-Tan sólo a Dios se la encargo.

-Soy capaz de protegeros
Si os resolvéis a fugaros.
-¿Yal Emperador? -No; nunca.
-Pues su misma suerte aguardo.

Y como lo sabe el mundo,
Juntos fueron al cadalso
Y así selló con su sangre
Lo que dijeron sus labios.

and sometimes magic, a scene from the book
of genesis, chapter verse whatever,
buying whiskey and beer in a supermarket,
the cashier, Tara, knows me,
she's my gym coach,
she tut tut struts and tuts when i buy
beer telling me to keep the beer off -
i told you alcoholics are mobile,
we go sightseeing most of the time,
on a double decker bus we bemuse and
lipread: and here's the Elizabeth tower (formerly
known as Benjamin "big ****" Disraeli -
the English by the French after the 100
year war: if they're not retards, they're perverts) -
****! that ****'s brushed off on me! am i a *******
if i hold dear a British passport? phew! no? yes? huh?!
i must be a Mr. Khan in waiting...
no, but seriously, a scene in the cave of an iceman,
5 lasses buying wine lonely,
me my beer my whiskey,
i get a lemon added / ****, i told you it was a lime not
a lemon on the conveyor belt -
i get a lime, lucky Adam got an apple
and one asking, i'm doing double-up fevers waiting
for Saturday night with Paris, Hilda, Venus and Hera..
Adam gets an apple from smooch slick Eva
naked and i get a ******* lime on a conveyor-belt
in a supermarket while buying whiskey...
Jonah! call the whale! i'm sure we'll both
be calling it Noah's ark when tomorrow comes;
**** you not, we'll be boarding dry-land at
Arsuk - ****, send a message to Columbus -
we discovered North America via Greenland
like you discovered the same via the Caribbean Islands,
ha ha! call it dynamo of Erik versus Kristopheren;
i just got a lime on a conveyor belt in a supermarket,
Adam was handed an apple in Eden -
i guess that's worth a 50 50 chance of coincidence
with my ***-starved libido and the English "roses":
not that i'm guarantying anything good either,
it's not like i'm a vacuum cleaner based guarantee -
but **** me, the ******? **** wrinkles and all,
bamboozle clad the salutary march for applause -
and the fainting bearskin trumpet-brigadier at
the ro- -yal parade onto Buckingham Ponce;
n'ah n'ah n'ah n'ah n'ah.

Concrete Foundations, Built for us,
Founded and Created Cons, Buried, now crushed,
under the same concrete, created, to maintain a fond nation.
For us? We trust, in none of them, they disgust,
they all just smile with their mouths sewn shut,
hiding behind stitched mouths, teeth knocked out,
pulling their ***** back out, to fu..
fundamentally set standards, they deemed a must
drinking rust, water spouts the wells been poisoned somehow.
Armies of men stationed, wives and kids despise, his,
atomic attacks, all bones with no back, who's side white brown or black?
Air Raid sirens to sound as smoke arises,
blow, it out, of
The Trumpet's brass?
Much like anything that comes out of his ***, he needs put in a cast,
not meaning the role he's playing, after all he is about his ratings.
Look at all the sitcoms out of yal he has created. ha
I don't discriminate, however brass, leaves a bad after taste,
like, not really my instrumental choice,
unless its ****** knuckles, I'm more of a percussionist
beat them all with the drum
sticks, *****, chicks, wake the **** up, dumb little b..
bench/, warmers...where they sat us, playing on an Iphone,
not paying attention, so much distraction, you twit nits,
twittering, snap, chatting,
*** and **** pics, what's wrong with that pic,
living in a photoshopped world, come watch the games now,
that the score board is 'fixed'
same players no touchdowns, losing, yet forced to
cheer and chant their names, they win, don't you dare frown,
becoming restless, keeping us mentally sick and poor,
kids blocked by a wall with a white guarded door,
floor is slick, spilled some orange paint all over it,
flick the ashes, like your nasty cigarette habits
Does your hope float? because mine don't, nope,
but were all stuck in a bubble, can't float when your caught under the rubble,
smells like they better call Hillary, something is fishy,
oh wait that's her and Trump's chemistry mixing.
I'm probably gonna get some backlash for this,
especially because the fact of it is,
this house is divided into unequal shares,
yal walk around as if nobody lives there,
It's like leaving the lights on but nobody is home,
tear down the wall crush them with the same heavy stones.

Wartime. That's hapt, eh,
nigh on ever'day.

I was awand'rin' why,
when a noble knight arose afore me, 'pon a horse.

Says the noble fella,
I was sent to answer you,
and swear the truth you find has never been a lie.

Treasure it. Treat it sure and saved and safe.
For, gotten gains are lost or never were, the trenches
remain, graves with the ends kicked out.
From those,
we rose and claimed war is the lie, the first one.

The lie that says to itself, I am true, not you,
by nullifying you, I am proven.

"But you are crazy, right?"
No,
not right.

Lie yourself from reality.

Did that work? Dear reader, you alone know.
unsuspended unbelief becomes belief,

in a wink, a gleam, an apple in God's eye.

If you can imagine that, otherwise,
mortality is temporary,
waiting
is. It's what trees do, peacefully, from my POV.

----------
how might the message survive

interesting question in these interesting times

So'yal 2018
Clocks unlock the clues

pay
attention time time times and halves have past

The whole world divided in the time of Peleg
into languages and nations

we forget ourselves and must remind
we have the mind of Christ

what hubris or what faith or
what evidence,
what good can I do or could I if were minded?
so, If I agree with Jesus about the location
of God's, by Jesus's definition, God's kingdom
is within whom he spoke to or
to whom his words
were given or
taken, for
granted

hubris, nay,

arrogance? meekness. assumption presumption

sumpin hapnin heyah sameosameosameo

----
The Younger Dryas took some time. it was cold.
but the ice caps are finally melting,
that's a good thing. warm days
cool nights,
seed time and harvest

Kinda like Joni Mitchell's Circle Game but

bubbles being formed and expanding
did we bump?
were you really ever part of me?

Did we see those stones melt, or
was that on TV?

Gallantly riding along with my sidekick Gandolf, bold and strong, 'ride or die' t'il his hoofs fall off'.
Onwards we journey throughout the finally quite valley, silencing all the wild, yal stuck in a 'blind alley'.
Pondering back in memories around a campfire, a time once I was wreckless and robbing moonshiners.
I smell the wood burning and the embers crackling. reminiscing old days before I was backtracking.
Twiddling my doorknob mustache I wish I had. Bar fights and gun slings, in my side tipped hat.
I'm on the run now Sherriff can't catch me, were out stomping ground, like it's a stampede.
Found myself in a bind, with my cantine, and my satchel, been wanted an outlaw, for slaughtering you cattle.
Rode all night with a bunch of drunken bandits, tried to cheat me in poker, but I was left handed.
See I cleared all this land, with 44's to their chests, most precise 'bar slinger' this side of the west.
Spitting 'bars' in a saloon now that's a new style, try and crowd around me, I'll exit you out of existence, single file.
Your 'rowdy cowboys' smell of cigars, *****, and perfume. I'll hang you out back without dignity of a tomb.
Ringo, Django, Buffalo Bill, I don't concern with who you are, and that's the real deal.
Status means nothing to a revolving gun, my mind is my weapon, so I hope you can run.
You go to hell, you go to hell and you die, don't fret old pals, I'll sing your wife and kids goodnight,
kiss them and tuck them in for you, ignoring her cries for me to 'just spare her one true'.
I must be so fortuitous, unless I'm just not new at this, nah, I've done this numerous.
I heard them call out ' drinks on me' well if you would stop spilling it, and hitting on Bonnie.
Where the **** is Clyde, banging a *******, I'd kick his teeth out with my combat cowboy boots.
Why the **** is everyone so 'Bonnie and Clyde' robbing banks and fleeing, with a two faced ***** by your side.
Yeah they got your sides, while shooting you in the back, staring at your face, you hit the pavement then...smack..
Hard cold reality hits you in the face, undermined my intensity, my emotions enrage.
I'll burn your whole town you son of a witch, now hop along Cassidy, you flipped off the wrong switch.
I walk into this new place, everyone stops, they know who I am, but their jaws about to drop.
I take off my trench coat, revealing curves, what this cowboy, is really a her.
Taking my hat off, my pinned hair falls, hiding my face so they can't see my flaws.
They gasp in shock, who is this gal, this lady?
Whistling a tune, to the real Hello Daisy.

Prose words. Cross roads. No choice
Actions torture no love, they don't want me to speak my mind
And the hell that I go through,  yeah I hope I walk through
Everything doesn't add up, ima fall and still  stand up
I can't even talk to  my own people
I can't even smile with my own people

The only hope  I was left with
People  I would sit with,  talk to smile to,  
I thought they was family,  I take it bitter down my throat
Stay in bed, late nights, reminiscing on the good days I had
Yes I remember all the words,  the wise words,  sad words
But I ain't got no time for tears
I now get up. Wake from this dream,  I have to fightt... I'm die for what I love... Achilles
Ain't nobody for me... Ain't nobody to lead me through the storm
I got my feet stuck in this mud.. I need yal to stretch out
I needed y'all to try reaching  out
You never see my struggles...
Y'all only see my troubles... Worries
I take a duck at life.. But all that I thought I had were just thoughts
I can't find peace.. What I go through.. But still I hope I make it through... And you see me through lord

That alright to go to me,
Then its cos to go so lone.
Its okay the bat to skin,
The a am to me of skull.

Then to you to father break,
Motherland to you of skin.
That to you a then to go,
Your me to bain to you.

Made in is Russia boy,
You of spring to go to you.
After burner its okay,
Your dead to concerat.

That away you concli me,
In okay the good to you.
Of in spreak to go so lone,
You are speak to break to you.

Then of you the boy to me,
Office go to you i break.
Motherland to you of spring,
Its okay you bebe need.

Your song to boys to you,
******* bread to go to that.
Six months to you going spray,
****** boy you go to you.

That of freak to go to go,
That a need you skin a sin.
Mather ******* me to break,
Its so lone to you o yes.

That a boy to you my friend,
Then a skin the you a go.
Motherland to you of pip,
That my Disney Disneyland.

That to go to you are boy,
Then a skin the mather ****.
You a go to you to sin,
Its okay you understand.

That to go to me my friend,
That a lot to motherland.
Landing arm to boy my friend,
Its okay you go to need.

Understand you boys to you,
Indian the break to go.
Indian that motherland,
Arm to you if cos to you.

That a boy you needed fix,
A a lot  you mather break.
Zits to go you spray again,
Motherland of cos to me.

You the girl to you of cos,
Zits a you a mather ****.
Love a cos to you a break,
That a go to you of spring.

Thanks to me you olov you,
That a boy to much of cos.
Six months go a letter big,
Are you ready on a pho.

Zits alright together ****,
Understand you mather ****.
Kiss my bebe you the good,
Understand you sol to me.

Aftobane you console,
Yal tugan bulgan so lone.