I dropp behind the ruts, drawn papercuts seem to peirce the worst of fears that strut, like an artform, to perform this warm storm that transforms into a swarm of movements and beats, so descrete, you mess up theres no delete, now offbeat, so incomplete when on streets smoke using dope sheets, grab my reciept, then to retreat the heat, i go inside, secluded there's no deny, despite the stagefright, i ignite the stage. like a pro i overflow, with styles, go on for miles, spun to stun the rest left to begun, there's none, just weight on my shoulders, it weighs a ton, like boulders life just got harder as it's devoured by flowers of showers placed over a body and state of mind, so intertwined, designed to forever remind mankind of, what's left behind...
