Cups in a phallic symbol, solos in a row so you can handle
that you got fuck up, while the keg went AWOL
Spit fire and Bacardi, it’s hardly hardening your heart and
It’s partly scarring your smart, who’s smart? You aren’t.
pedantic in writing, you're frantic in lying
a ransom on fighting, it’s canning your mind then
kept searching for signs, but saw the lack, or the minus
their star was a minor, and nebula a time past
This galaxy is lifeless, the string theory is writhing
the lines are back biting, the hand that feeds the rising
Rising in pride and mindless hygiene
It takes pinecone gin and pipe dreams to remind me
Did your stand and stepped down, lips and hands get around
while you claim you want to get out, but same plan, next town
Plenty faced, in many ways, headed way to heady waves
you can shoot boosters every day, but it’s still just empty space



I wrote this album with a lot of nicotine
Dipping and smoking but I quit last week
An alcoholic guard dog wouldn’t let me sing
So I cracked back that leash and decided to speak
I’m done being meek, unraveled with ease
I travel with peeps that would rather me breath
Anecdotes and panicked prose. Its manic mopes if I leave
Pan the gold Its pitiful if I’d rather go to sleep
So I stay up and read. Writing is something I definitely need
So I wrote every line
So I wrote every rhyme
So I wrote every line
So I wrote every rhyme
Some birds got me
Some birds got me
Some birds got me
Some birds got me