Sometimes I just want to
do drugs and drink
it's too hard to think
madness on the brink
the missing link
skeletons emerge from the closet
brain celibate dancing the devils mosh pit
John Malkovich with a gun to my head
in the cockpit
counting down the clock ticks
rain pours to wash away the toxins
not knowing who God is
grew up catholic chilling with convicts
learning the block pitch
dealers cutting up the drop ship
definition of context
money knots swelling up my pockets
running from the darkness
bullet proof dodging the glock kiss
38 in the game of life still a novice
verbalizing my written correspondence
live from inner thought
dead man walking amongst lost prophets
backed in a corner running out of options