Am I Doing This?

Really, why I am doing this?

Clearly, I can't be the one doing this.

I'm Diddly quick.

Feeling around with the fiddly bits with these lyrical deliquescence.

I'm hitting this. No.

I'm quitting this flow when I'm shifting to know just how I'm gonna go into the detail.

Maybe rip out your entrails. No?

I just don't know.

Your vest got holes.

I guess those chest holes aren't just vest holes but sound vent holes from these profound lent-flows.

That I'm fed.

Nothing goes past my head, instead of the future I live the past in red.

I'm faster than said so when I speak, you'll say "Say that again.

Instead of "I didn't hear what you said.

Now, these words might make or break these lyrical connoisseurs.

but I'll offer another option.

Sir, how about go and cross-server before I get angry and toss the word Murder.