Like This

It's like this.

If I didn't bring you with me, I'd be aligned with.

My body, my soul.

It's my hobby, you know?

It's like I'm waiting for a snail to develop rails and give up the trail.

For 'a better analogy, I'm 'ma rewrite.

Spirituality is a fallacy.

A mistaken myth about mine and your reality.

I'm behind the door, I'm out of here, the stratosphere.

Looking back only to be glad that I'm out of there.

Mushroom cloud above the atmosphere like the grass was rare.

Psychedelic hub, I'm rushing the vacuum, tear in my actual room.

I'm cutting the bud.

Psychopathic relic corrupting my buzz.

I'm nothing a glove with a suffering a puppet "loving every minute of it."