And that is the grip of poison.
And that is the game of Satan.
Hmmm.
Can’t hang,can’t hang or handle…
As is.
Can’t buy this house without any work done to it..
Need something.
Something for the head.
(something for the soul)
And that’s how we found ourselves here..
Sad as it may be.
(It’s gorgeous out)
It really is.
No Armageddon nor apocalypse over here..
Just gorgeous son.SuN.
Clouds.
Is he breezy?
Easy breezy.
Feel me?
Exhale and relinquish those bones into the dirt, breathe out, let go of your muscles and let them lay on the earth.
That’s where they’ll be eventually..
It’ll talk to you.
If you really really mean it..
It will whisper sweet words of peace to you..
And you will feel the cool temperature move across your body.
Home.
Every motherfucka gotta home. Somewhere you is.
Somewhere you came from, and somewhere you belong.
(and somewhere you will be)
Test the waters.
Tour the house.
Become “acclimated”..
Or?
Stay in this bullshit ass line of consciousness.
Stay in this reality.
Sling shit at the other monkeys, just like they are slinging at you..
Sing that song 😔😔
If ya want..
dawn 