Writers block sharper then preciseness from a snipers Shot,
Since writers block blocks writers from righteous thoughts, I don't like to write a lot.
now I'm lighting pot cuz of my inner breaking like lightning striking pots from Washington nights on lifeless blocks.. in the middle of summer with long droughts.. I might slit my fucking throat to get This song out.
I miss constructed thoughts... each line structured from missile seeking genius thinking, pencil tip like a ginsu swinging ripping limbs to pieces and the impact detrimental like Hindu teachings.
I miss innocent living when living innocent wasn't wishful thinking,
I used to be a stargazer, on top of the world & far from hard time and child labor. Now I'm a narcotics part time trader.
I've been a saint since my first day started,
I tried slicing veins and never realized the blade sharpened.
Wasted potential once again, I think I'll spark another Dutch again, and roll up till the sun gets dim,
my run of the mill is how we're all gonna eat, and when I die will the process repeat? Or will I be rotting meat in a coffin deceased on a highway for someone driving can see that I used to......
Have potential