Awfully strange, like a lobotomy. Brain leaking honesty. Wait,
I'm off in these dazes, while I subconsciously strain. Launching grenades.
Dreams? Naw, each thought's a freeze frame of me palming these
Glocks in each take. Awkwardly pace, back & forth w/ these gauges.
I sawed off a piece. Stop tryna talk to me, I'm already late.
Just want a clean slate... Errr, coffin. I'm authoring fate.
Life's like a quarantined state, just waiting for death...
Aimed at my chest & left my pajama's sleeve stained.
Good shit, Dally.. I liked it
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Even signing my autograph’s like writing a slaughter pact
Last edited by Neighbor; 09-13-2013 at 07:52 AM.
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