You don’t feel me, I know you hear the poverty.
Steering through years of falsely accusing the tears, I’ve jotted these,
rhymes no one clearly offers to read.
And a heart that has gone through an impoverished college degree,
Lost so many phones I appear a monitored impostor to scheme,
But my posture disappears consciously,
I created my own squad because I wasn’t acknowledged properly,
Who needs to be on a ball team, if they can’t feel your defeat, cerebral palsy,
In possession of a list of monsters responsible for sponsored debree that no longer respond to me.
I guess I made it huh.
At home splintering through a living room full of elephants it’s so unusual to address.
My boss intrudes my cubicle looking through my music so impressed,
Trying to be a producer but loosely getting used to perusing consumers digest.
Won’t encourage working on belligerently drunk foreign exchange students unless,
They agree there’s nothing cute about being a beautiful mess.
Now the rumors suggest, I should accomplish what I’m striving for.
Don’t have the nerve to respond with a rejection letter, I’m inclined to inquire why I’m even fucking applying for.
I bleed and suffer, the blind leading the blind, I’m a speedy runner.
Sometimes I have trouble discussing whether or not stevie wonders if he’s really stevie wonder.
Please be subtle. It’s not a good morning for peasants, but they still utter good night king.
The united states was a plane, but its landing has been damaged by its right-wing.
There are no answers to the traffic supplanting the canvas in which Mike thinks.
