Standing on the sand alone on the precipice.
Swallowed by the horizon stretched thin.
The great hand that snakes from the atmosphere winds,
there’s nothing like that sweet bitch slap that responds to your whispers.
With parts self claps rings and shivers.
Tell me who to speak to layer cake.
There’s no one here to trust now prayer mate.
Let me trust in dead men cleanse state.
Life with all these sacks broke break.
Dirt of light under gold books that’s right.
Rivers of commotion drown the sea of light
and all your emotion is not a real fight
and all that you try.
Whine drink think blink shout bout drum slum gun done is done.
Don’t cut off don’t be cut, never stop paths don’t cop.
Emotions mirrored in magnets polar and
give me yours and take my hand.
Claim my pain and I’ll claim yours.
Expand your screened world, what do you stay for?