Musical Erection

Came back to the room with no thought,

No reconciliation in my jaded art of war,

Strategies are basic that they lack in every form,

But I never paint a hieroglyph I don't intend to draw,

Laying out the sketches in the middle of the floor,

Pimping butterflies good cause the media is raw,

Uncut meat, far from that kosher,

Far from the elevated wave of pneumonia,

Lungs stays swollen, the tongue stays golden,

The mug stays holy, the drugs stay holding,

My hand game motion, intertwined deeply with my hand framed motive.

 

 

Folding all my clothes, war path froze,

Ice on my neck get scorched by the foes,

I'm not sure if they're human or not,

Get reposed by the funeral op,

Debt blows right by the numeral chops,

Inside the circuits of the beast the luminal cop,

Red or blue the Zetsu of renewable locks,

Eat good do good measurable stocks,

Proprietor of nothing man the emptiness walks,

On three feet but the other foot talks,

Right down my spleen an the stomach is marked,

Hopefully I seek a gleam that's ready to spark.