It slips out my grip. Every time, somethings been missed. I’m wanting the puzzle pieces to fit. I wanna figure out how to stop getting lit. For too long I’m really gonna start to trip. I seek the answers day and night. Against my addiction I want to stay and fight. Here I am again, high as a kite. The angels have said my futures very oh so bright. Keeping my focus towards finishing this expression, I wanna look up an Angel number to cure this obsession. Class is in session. Surely these numbers cure my depression. For the win. I keep my head high, while I search deep inside. To figure out how to put down the pipe. This all that I write really sounds nice, but will it provide what I need to stay fight? Keeping it short and sweet, yes it will. Gives me everything I need till my barns are filled, sweet. Fields. Acorn hills, free meals off the grill. Lyrics unreal, but I gotta leave still.