I'm not a fucking rapper if I were they would be after me I've painfully adapted to a world trapped in a travesty it saddens me to think this is what has to be forever pulling on the threads of this tapestry unweave the fabric of existence reveal the true intentions and the underlying message yeah and with it came a lesson cause you know theyre alwalys testing just to see how far youll stretch it look to me im hardly stressing cause i know life is a blessing the truth comes out eventually cant hide the fact were flying through this time line perpetually dont call me out for lying im just living out my destiny a child of a dying breed i leave behind a legacy youve yet to see the best of me im saving that up maybe for a rainy day carving these paths so i cannot not be led astray gone too far to come back the same as yesterday regret all of the actions that ive yet to make im out of my mind like a forgoten waste of time im far too out of line for fishing so i tie ropes around my prey theyre frozen hopes in dissarray i stole it spoken words and phases open doors to what my ways have shown holy fucking shit im tweaking cant define the words im speaking graph the stats in lines im sniffin life is an unholy prison death is closing in im thinking crept into my skin im breathing heavier than shit im seeing visions of the end and how the dominos affect the regions a flap of the wing from just a butterfly exactly perfect sequences of time can happen within and eat you up alive masters of sin no longer justified im slicing and im serving up the pieces of this humble pie i think i have lost my mind but if its gone have i just died? it seems about my time scens of living out my life present a message of a fallen brother elective mandirory gifts requested others effective like an accurate death from struggle a blessing in disguse recognized by muffles im shattered like a house of glass cards shuffled blasted like a missle missing inteded shuttles puddles of muscles left by struggles of a man he blushes blood it russhes past the last vessles in the quest for recognition on a mission sent from blisters on the skin with whiskers please mister dont deliver news of sorrows it takes hours just to borrow towels drying up the tears tear from shears just to sharpen with a metal milk carton few like a spartain green as martians seize the partners free the martyrs bleed the carcis dry under purple skies in a nervous rush to try and hush the masses with a muzzle built of quivering fear and tears searing up the beef because im cooking on these beats whoever wants it in the streets can get it haunted by deciet of wemon made me who i am and made me just not give a damn