Shut down my thoughts, so no one can access my windows.
Close curtains so i can be alone with my thoughts.
Stay in long enough till am in love with them, and the only way out is through the doors.
But do i really need to leave?, when in here my tears aid to scrub my floors.
Imperfect like a Muhfvcker with scrambled teeth or a lady with absurd tits.
Sociopathic?, Psychopathic? all of these dark shades reside in the attic.
I'd be lost in calculus if i tried to conjure the arithmetic that best proves the number of times i've shut them out.
So for a niccur so crude with oil in his veins... watch the pressure with which you drill, for there could be a blowout.
Whatever you get then would be the repercussions of your actions.
I wouldn't give no flying fvck if the consequences you face are as a result of your hallucinations off the back of your concussion.
Better still if you want a concession to your questions.
Take a trip down memory lane.
To the moment the window got cracked, maybe you'd feel the window's pain.
I scuff at the marble floor, while sade's "The sweetest taboo blares"
With eyes fvcking bloodshot, like i mixed the weed with some blem.
High as the clouds, Speakers so loud, A joint residing between my middle and index finger... is this loud?
Sometimes it feels like you only need you in your life... coz two is sort of like a crowd.
Thoughts on thoughts that wouldn't be masked by snapchat filters.
My drive is on adolf mode?, but would end up a hitter or a hitler?.
Can't really spot the difference between the two, but i'd just follow the logic that states "almost is just as good as never".
Yeah! I might go off and on like Nepa.
My mind may be filthy, So go ahead and treat me like a leper.
Am really all 'bout calming the storm, fvck the ministry.
Sure as hell can't rewrite the books huh? is this a class for history.
A story has been told... forward and backwards.
It's back to the Chardonnay, 'nuff thanks to sade.