I am a lonely cynic
I have a secret jar and a secret cover
Because i dont want you to know whats in it
Let alone whats floating in it at the top
Convincing myself that sooner or later this has to stop
But i dont know what it is thought, anything helps
Cuz one day it decided to sneak its way in and f** up everything else
Let it be felt
The only reason i love winter is cuz everything freezes to d**h and then everything melts
I love it because its circular, mainly
I love the image of a dead crow, surrounded by a circle of daisies
Thought process is hazy, but it comes out so clear, im crazy
You can say thank you to the people that raised me
Props to the middle state
I outlined my entire life on a grey page and remembered to leave the middle blank
And before I get aroused to spit
I wander around the crib
And polar fleece night gowns and wigs
I am a clown pig
Drown kids in brown sh**
Then keep the body pieces in jars without lids
Im down for the sh** till im out this
And when ill leave im like "Who's coming with me"
No choice, the crowd is
Because i count bullets and you count tips
On stage with a hallowed out goat skull for where the crown is
My goal is to make everyone who came out sick with imagery that triggers a full body dry heave without spit
Lock you all in here then daws this
[?], and make it go up in flames like LA houses
With no social prowess
At the funeral wake like
"I need something from the basement that I can dip the prouts in
Torching herbs
Who rather watch the red rubberball bounce on the bottom of the screen and ignore the words
Im hardcore berserk
Sex, money and murder
The first two are cool, but lately i go for the third
This is the only thing that'll calm my nerves
And it also happens that when I rhyme
It can conjure up swarms of birds
I take 10 [out-on-the-dirt?] naps nightly
Revive myself and shake off
Because the floor is dirt