[theMuzzl3]

Comes down to one thing, foo:
Cha-ching!
Puttin down the brew.
As God sounds:

noise session.

Are you (yeah all of you),
being as one being?
Seeing: us screaming as a crew?
If not, find how you do
what we ring you to do.
Let me give you a clue:
it is your que.

Escuse me, Dr. Drew,
Are you all in?
If so, don't even be playin.
This ain't no array of sunshine
that time will spin;
it'll come some day,
when we be praying.
Fuck, dude,
its today; so shine.
What comes to mind:
is what I'm saying:
Blame the hatin
statin of creation
on no foo
who's me and you.

How does stuff get infected?
How affected are you?
How has the crap crept:
into, and effected our foods?
When does shit get injected:
to cure the one thing?
One thing?
How about the flu?
Swine flu zombified you?
I ain't got no clue:
what I'm saying, dude.
So start actin rude,
and make me a rood.

Sick and tired.
Of bein sick and tired?
How about bein wired:
up to be admired…
as a son;
one, and done.

Who decided?
And, who collected?

Why decipher?
Why be the exciter?
Excite her?
And, exit slightly,
as per her lively
request to be tightly:
nicely shiny; and slightly slimy...
and spiky.

Who is just speculating?
Who is calculating the judgement of all?
Who is judging, at all?
Why not: us all?
When would we be:
barking up the right tree?
And, who is amused by the constant show
of you and me failing to be the equivalent
of you; be seein, and seein the sin.
Who watches the movie of your life when you be dyin?
Who observes your best flow?
Do you decide on whats likely, then?
Who places wages, and bets to win?

Do you give yourself to God's will?
And let him be educatin:
the twill of your spilt hill
Of the low, and the Tao…
exposed like a grill,
filled with silver (or gold)…
depending on your will.

Don't speculate,
nor hesitate.
When we're seven,
we'll equal eight.
Don't date,
nor masturbate.
When we find heaven,
We accept our fait.


Copywrite isn't copyright blah blah blah you suck at naming dates and times

~theMuzzl3