Slugger

I'm always rolling in magic, I'm always flowing in tragic rap.

My back just snap, aligned spine but where's the sensation of static?

Mapped the classic Catholic trap of nothing matters but loving chapters.

I'm touching the One and suffering a lung infection.

Rhyme a song and mention the time I was wrong about ascension.

It's a profound correction like I was bound for rejection and the sound was a reflection of my doubt!

An expression of depression.

"What's it all about?!"

I'm sensing the sensor, getting tenser as I pressure the weather.

Pleasure, I'm wetter, forever I'm never getting treasure.

Forgetting that I'm always in the centre.

More ways through the doorways I would enter through thought.

Man, would could they talk.

I stand in Aw then demand that I wanna see more!

I hover, expand my other, ick ban my lover.

Which hand do I disband? The slugger.