Sliding through
Getting high
On
Every time I die
Stuck in passages a time living like 1999
Motorola on my side
As I contemplate my rhyme
I float along the surface of the city like a ghost
And I ghosts with jugga rosy wine
As I wonder [bad word] the topiary garden of my mind
I got Ana with myself
And it’s thicker than divine
You won’t even feel my presence as I drift up from behind
And give you a sensation something like a hickey on your spine
I’m beautiful
I’m fine
Like the smell a rain and pine
Young narcissistic player with no pulse
But I feel the pulse of the earth underneath me as I ride
Riding in the burgundy century
As a mystical entity
With a lot of pain inside
I’m what you can’t even pretend to be
Sipping Hennessy
Listening to a seven inch of Gride
As I bump and grind
Young Dylan and I gotta get mine
But being Godly just isn’t my kind
Sometimes I feel just like I’m living in rewind
Jumped off of the mountain
Dying at the climb
Back up to the castle of depression
And through the forest of tribulation
With the condensation in my eyes
And then I opened up my soul to the sky [bad word] do me in
Throw me in the chair
Let me fry