I plant all the mushrooms down the pipe simply to emanate a gloomy mist
my mood shifts as this odyssey evolve into a looney trip, on some spooky shit
it seems I am seized in an infinite maze - I would prefer to leave this vigilant place
my mind is tripping in a dissonant state, my feet skips to harmonize intricate traces
seeking to reach the gate, I contemplate if Bowser or the grim reaper awaits
the steep plates seemingly sealed my fate, jumping to conclusions like leaps of faith
feeling baked, eyeballing disfigured features epitomizing these creeping creatures
my need for reefer is getting deeper, the very reason I jump on all these sad souls
I came from left to right, in a game of death or life - the very end is a flag pole
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