You are 50 feet above the core
Where trouble and sore is no longer subtle with gore
Bludgeon the molds, you are a transient
Fleeing struggle and a war you incited like an Aryan
Hm. How does it feel to lean over the edge
Just to see faces that never stayed past the dread?
Add it up, subtract, detract, get back
It’s water to a vampire when superego spits that
Factual, but in actual you ain’t half as tragical
But with this “let me die” stuff you sabbatical
Hm. The past is cruel? wait till the future comes
You will end up kicking yourself in the teeth through the drums
Shoot the messenger, backstab the first writer
The second writer can write the eulogy for the worst fighter
That is you, yes. Which is who? guess
Not the face in the mirror, you lost that innocence lest

Scandalous evangelist with hands on his cameras
Captures this ravenous travels to where the answer is
Hazardous dance moves to graphical rap songs
A palpable tension, sinking to untrappable past wrongs
Casketed bodies, caption-less pictures of tired texts
bout seclusion, a movement to incel mindset
Take that back, break your back, carrying the weight that lasts
Eons, you breathe on, hoping it doesn’t cling on
Keep smiling, nod your way out, pray to god your way out
Heat the rod your way out, rest-it-on-your-back-hot your way out
Oops you forgot your way out, who should’ve lost his face now?
Maybe this isn’t meant for you, move on or away now
Stuck, stuck, stuck, stuck, stu-, stuck
What, what, what, what, wha-, what
Running to the ends and even the sun loses its flame
Loser or revolutionary, you ain’t choosing your name



Do it for green and gold, do it for these souls
Do it for everybody and anybody that probably
never got to be you, never got to see through
The chains may leave bruises but the truth is
you fit with its bleak grooves, hang by it for a minute
You ain’t dying in a minute, when you got these dues
Semantics is like almost all of it my brother
If we chose the pill, we gotta swallow it, my brother
Plenty folks to heal, but you are caught up in a subject
That’s honestly redundant from the start of it to trumpets
While they go look for crumbs when it crumbles
Fight the numb in the numbers, until the sun is asunder
from your thumb on the thunder
your weapon makes you one in the wonder
So every demon, baby, we running it under
Cocytus’s bed rocks, step off, go siphon