Right?

You can see like, what it would be like to be this tight, to be this right, comfortably fitted on the mic, right?

You can feel the tension upon asking or seeking for the question, right?

Peaking acolytes, thought packed in tight, not mentioning the acts to do right.

Late at night, thinking bites when I'm at the height calling forth these witnessing acolytes.

A taxing blight with no direct action, right?

I affect more then morph into a tech source, squeezing out lyrical trek sauce.

I'll find the next source, I'm align within the next course, I'm in a vexed pause.

I need a rest, nod off from the inner cortex and I don't care to see what's in-store next for the rest of this test.

I wanna be void of the mess, avoid the chance and put to rest this quest.

Find away out of this pest and finally rest.

I want the phoenix to die but the phoenix will always rise.