"Jittery" (Cypher #2)

Jittery, unflimflammed of this Salem witchery,

Houdini trickery, bitterly shivering

at the periphery of the Statue of Liberty.

This slippery, natural history of my lively,

Django's whiplash injuries, beckoning to me valedictories.

Fracturing these chicories, inkberries,

clock-ticking hickories into splinteries.

Inwardly, I'm interrogating myself inquiries.

This liturgy of chivalry, aiding breech delivery.

Like the pyrrhic victory of Hillary, Everest,

I'm the limelight of the epitome.

Never gingerly, but I'm running this auxiliary distillery.

On the contradictory, saying all that gold ain't some glittery,

I'll pillory those synergies

wholly of invading my domiciliary fishery.

Sisterly rotisseries in Italy, damn, this shivery ain't my misery.

Luminary, and I ain't spanning 50 Cent-uries,

not playing cricket, yet I'm kicking these wickets of silvery just of necessity.

I'm niggardly using artillery shutting these Twitteries out of consistory.

They say I'm a man with jittery,

I guess this is no mystery,

with my experience right behind me,

I know this well and familiarly.

(x2)

I'm impatient as hell, my replacement of shell.

Manumit the enslavement of my dwelling true form,

knicked at the inflation of sells.

Bit edgy round the corner, hit every pound I order,

split plenty astounding wordplays with a witty mouth like Doctor.

A twitchy bitch, and yes I'm filthy rich,

in lexicons, switching enriched doggerels into treatises of doctoral.

Autobahn on an Altona fast lane, Shinkansen on a fast train.

Get past Wall Street in a heart beat with a Lockheed fast plane.

No I'm never a patient, me a fucking surgeon.

Quarreling me is ducking surgeons, one-night stand, now I'm sucking virgins.

I'm a chauffeur riding 400, that words per minute.

Been it, don't fuck with my third verse, cause

none of your words worth, innit?

Now I'm raring and restive, time-sparing and festive.

Antsy, I'm a laborer, leaf cutting through Banksy's.

Aesop Rock with the days off, traipsing The Streets with a bass song.

Pranging these dipshits out the bay town, chafe mixed with Space Bound.

Not out of these, and I'm sure an oddity, Bowie-esque curiosity.

Headstrong instead of the arm,

trek Mars and the Moon, second-degree bodily harm.

Large hand inbound, rapping platoon.

Acromegaly libretto, Nena with her plastic balloons.

No ghetto, yet I'm the agog saga, ain't yo classic goon.

Othello, upend the scoreboard,

never the underdog wanna, willing to a drastic tune.