This View

This view about the world has turned me into a cynic.

A critic about to spew lyrical nouns out of the music.

Turn around, Doubter! I thought you wanted to become Alpha?

Verbs down you're just becoming sour.

Herbs hound, you're blunt.

They're terms found when I serve clowns in the butt.

No homo, penetration was with the flow, though.

Sounds in the gut.

With a loud inner "Fuck! What's it all about?".

They're saying "What's with all the doubt?

I'm spraying "what's with all the shout, I'm hearing?

No wonder it's doubt I'm nearing with 'a view of the clouds.

I'm peering no found inner peace just the ground, sinner and the beast.