this aint time for preachin
rhyme or reason, hit the mark in its season
walk the line between treason and truth
demeanors and uses, frequently abused and,
lines that get walked through like quick sand
ya gotta have a quick hand in this land of thieves
leave your pockets empty like whores and ts
absorbantly morbid lines of death mark the time i kept
inside this mind inept and finding the line to step
i bind to strep, cough often and infect quickly
inspect sickly boats to send em off to the seas like albatrosses
count ya losses and dip like countless bosses
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