[Sho Money EMG]

Anyways.

This was real nice. Solid piece, flowed well. Great vocabulary.

There's only darkness.
Periorbital coils terraforming my face.
The stereo's on. Cliff Burton, tearing chords on the bass.

Feeling this here. Very smooth. Good structure. Solid imagery.

Death metal brings life to this gloaming.
Striking a tone in my serotonin. Pulsating break beats
that we convulse to. Rain bleeds down the glass,
a mirror into your undulating nape's crease.

Powerful stuff. Very impressive. Love the display of intellect.

Eyes shut.
Aluminum taste creeps onto the tip of my tongue.
Dripping with rum, we're better off skipping the rungs
and falling flat on our faces, swollen from restlessness.
Absolved through our penitence, sorrow and reverence,
but we'll never sleep tight with tomorrow's experiment.

I've read all the text of Jesus, does God possess the thesis?
Or does one hypocritical verse mean all the rest is specious?
Insomnia releases me from the matrix
But makes me wonder out loud if the code's real
I know I can dodge the bullet
But still sweat drips from my brow to the cold steel

LOVED this part here. Like I said, experienced alittle Deja vu. Lol

He has a grip on my shoulders and a knife in my back
There's no light on the path when you're fighting the past
As I'm searching through my playlist in the hope of finding a track
That will cause my mind to relax, I'm feeling frightened, abashed

Cool flow, great message. Good multies.

Lighting this weed, no point in fighting this grief
When I'll never overcome it, I'm a slave to the lies and deceit
Strangely finding intrigue in how my mind has betrayed my soul
I don't pray for gold, I pray for just one day to escape the cold

Pray for gold/escape cold concept was hella dope. Loved this part.

That decays my bones, feeling much older than my age
In real life I'm quiet, I'm much bolder on the page
Crippled by the weight on my shoulders from the rage
As I beg my mind to readjust....now here goes another phase
I change addictions like underwear, addicted to nothing but addiction itself
In my youth writing was my life, I felt like diction was wealth
But how can I make people like my writing when I'm sick of myself?
So I write a few lines upon the page and then it sits on the shelf

Woo... fire.

Because I can't decide who I want to be, it's ridiculous...help!
I feel like a prisoner but the prison's in stealth
Only I know it exists, it's only me who sits in these cells
All because a bitch told me she'd be with me in sickness and health
And then taught me that people really only think of themselves
Insomnia speaks to me, he tells me she cheated me, he is my only friend
I have to stay awake, because together we will never be alone again.


Good work fellas.