EVERY NIGHT I SPIT A BIT
writing words across the mindsince I can't remember
but still every night
this is me in my mercedes benz
I waste careers for a living
but keep a copy of bukowski at all times
I’m no forcing out
I’m moving in uncle george
sight seeing ball spinning day dreaming
I grow gigantic socks on my ears
as warm as the weather might be
I avoid earthquakes and fires and guns and bombs
and some assaults
I always wear shades
even through these dark days
blending clips friday mornings
I keep the mind for the last
and dance free for the flow
I spin knees and cut trees and boil eggs and kill dads
I make no promises on the run
there is the feeling everything could blow
and chances say it might even snow
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