daydreams

The real world was never the real world to me,7 years ago,I'd be cruising on the open sea,

Make believe was whatever I was made to believe,my dad was real,foam sword was steel,optimus had to kneel,

I was king of the hill,star of my own movie reel,the whole works,the only thing worse than death,was when my balloon burst,

now I'm tainted ,I can only curse my naivety for losing my universe,I'm angry trying to remain curt,

holding on my inner kurt,my reality started to flirt with dreams and the feeling of being hurt,

my vision of freedom remained inert,my soul turned to the color vert,

killing zombies never really disperses my inertia,like the sands of time except I'm not the prince of Persia,

psychedelic converters convert my emotions into practicality,my imagination a more colourful version of reality,

only thing more peculiar than my brain is my supposed morality,carnality's slowly took over my mind,

visions of the past entered my mental confines,talking astrology waiting for a bunch balls to align,

Bind benign thoughts,thinking of why imagination is bound,with that our real being would be found,

creativity is unfounded,weightless,only thing in this world that's free,I once had a kingdom,but I lost the keys,

the birds and the bees been rendered obsolete,obviously,I mean I knew what sex was by the time I was three,

forget about 'mcphee' my only fixation was bountiful titties,a disease that corrupted my wings, left me feeling middle aged in the fifties,

So bless me and fuck growing up,it like I forgot to swim,puberty's basically drowning and raising a huge din,

ben told men that Benz was the way to go,we chasing after cheese that rotted long ago.

 

I'm black given a knife I could kill a man,left alone im evil,thoughts primarily evil,

Slavery never left,just waiting for sequel,lock your doors,I got something else in store,

pour Caucasian blood,like im drinking koolaid under a sycamore.

 

Are you scared,I'm strong,I'm fast,my dick big,vocab small,I like chicken and watermelon at the mall,

you cant trust me,I must be rusty cause I can wear a hood,I cant be out at nine and be up to any good,

my neck in a noose,death on my lips,I should be at home,not fingering metal,with a dome in mind,

can a dome define what goes on in my head,when I look at head and exams,and choose head over being the actual head,

I'm monkey,proud still swinging,losing my mind for revines I'm still swinging,floating like butterflies,my people still winging it,

still winning it,I'm sour like coffee,in the morning,wake up nigga,wake up,instead,we gloss over and add cocoa,drinking mocoa for the chase up.