Some Random shit...

I find myself in a relapse...
I back track, like words-back-words
But when I spit the upsurd
They stumble, unhumble,
...to the real
The ill of this...and questioning their senses like
...Do we get the feel of this?
I paint words permantatly on the hearts of the sleeves
Then I break the window in your thoughts
...committing mind burglary
and verbally...
they're not touching me,
So contemplate the shit I speak,
Grasp it like reaching for the stars...they say go above and beyond your reach
and stereotypically,
I'm the next bullet in the gun and the next hand on the trigger,
And if that's fact,
then the radio movement is the target,
blowing that shit away like blowing the steam from your dinner...