you got me angk-shuz
knuckles like battleships
at the ends of my armadas
firing squad fingus
blazin badabadabada!
laying you flat like
newsprint for tilapia
leave you out for days,
you both smell like shit
I smell you from here
"REALLY DOWN TO EARTH"
game, you know I know your game.
game.
'I like you, too! But yeah, gotta go, don't follow!"
shit's like high school locker room dramatics,
but your life is fluid, tugs from all directions.
gotta jet, gotta meet, gotta eat my collection
dainty daisies ripe, ripe, so you pluck,
'cept the swift lily white of my good luck
PLEASE don't think this is about you.
that would make me so HAPPY punk.
SMILES with less teeth look unimpressive.
Like an GLEEFUL apology from a drunk.
shut up.
