Always music comes out how you want it, if you say so, repeat it, listen to a chill vibe there...
And what repeats to you says back: whispered "I'm gonna fuck you up".
It ain't your importance what you never do, leave it lora, nora, don't push yourself, blubbering, you're trailing behind,
when you got your hour to answer, call drop, stop, you bollocks, bred animal!You want a fix for what listens to you, sin glinp, pretty bird, transparent pane,
and a taste you got a craving for, noke nest, moonshine in the woods,
and so your love ain't gonna be for you, sore, but wear glam ore, closed door, crypto, gret, pas na rien, sleep sheep well, cont.
That which doesn't matter to you a damn,
you wanna live off a glance, a shadow, light of the ridge, crashed-out Tesla, Witcher, Woody, way near bear,
off a remnant you don't got in your pretext, saw a premature tooth of astral palladium,
to give the bullshit, you mix up your destitution, buy a boat and head out to sea to say
that you're reckoning on life not turning up, let it render
what had no story to begin with.Learn, I don't even wanna know, hold up, see, have, touch, blush, cota, loopy, feel it back,
that which gives you breath.
You're the business of making life in the Heno, dejesti, it stuck, the snap,
no sponsorship to ask for, escrenolla, trial of the flu cream, straight to fill Noll,
nor your vision of that realization
that never dropped and just wants to show you off, artist, nero, narssa.
You're the decency of your own flesh, counting books and Legos and Netflix scenes,
it ain't your conscience that gives you the sharp-slap, fresh meat,
your entanglements of wine in that which gives me—inserts, accounts, and welds, messing with all these colors.When you want to, you don't even know where to cast your eye,
when what's written isn't what you'd risk,
it's just the autocorrect trying to straighten me outain't glory, it's just having to survive,
if you had a rattle, then what are you gonna say? Boooo!
None of that,
