I sit alone in a four cornered room staring at random
Thinking of a better way to handle
A candle
Burning quick at both ends and no grins
Holding on to old friends
And losing all my tokens
When the joke is broken
What's really left to notion
Can't rock the boat without the existence of ocean
Parallax the mind to keep the odds from being opened
Over working the limbic for a better use in motion
Cater to none
Kind of known as the wordy one
If i ever lost a beat it's probably cause i made it run
Later stunned when he found a mound of cookie crumbs
Who ate the cereal that made the lecture less numb
Out of food
But power thru
The hour due
Sour too
From lack of snooze
And crappy news
Factor two of the baddest known on an active groove
Slackers move at slow pace of crappy ooze
We are
The e.r.
Bring on the triage
Soak up the notion
We're too far to be yards
Bars
Like concrete and metal
On beat so level
That we speak in shovel