I can't run out of these pages
Sound checks feeling pretty vacant
It's too late now to hit retreat
I'm Down to one more thousand
But instincts tell me
Go on fly your wings
Them wavs will still flow through the messaging
But theres just one question Testing me?
How can my guitar Fit on greyhound seats
And I'm like Pick me up you can call me a scrub
I'll be your passenger princess lead my tracks on a bus
Like a hammock made from woven sheets
How that clinic swing keeps holding me
I came to
Hook it up
Now I'm starting to rhyme
We be the G's to the string with how we sow in your lines
Got a record deal thats gold to reap
Been jammin so just thread these lines for me