You wish, you were as dope as me. A coma dream alone. A beast at home. At ease. Watch closely and learn what hopeless means. A moment of peace bashing through Roman streets on this path where soldiers creep screaming "Attack!!" like Polish freaks. No, wait, sit back, just grab you some oval-tine, and when you get back, I'll nap on your sofa, please?
Time passed clasping zig zags and a bag full of weed. God damn, shit, who's that? Oh, it's me. Grab my phone, and keys, deadbolt. Just a flash of genius, a metaphor for this savage creature. I left the store empowered. No pastor, no preacher. Just a known bastard who just so happened to reason in a cavern with leaders deep in my labyrinth, my theater. Masked my features with a passion of actors in grieving. All in black. A believer. Get back bitch, we ain't leaving. Strap in quick before I blast it this evening. A catholic heathen at mass just dreaming of massacres and demons. Shit, I'm just happy and breathing smoke. Little fatter from eating souls.
You faggots don't even know.
I'm a disaster; A FEMA drone. Harmless and predisposed to gargle adrenochrome with caramel tea and coke. The Marxist with an evil flow carving artists in their apartments like Dahmer while donning Jesus' robes. The martyr born from karma is leaving home now that the weed is smoked to swarm upon ya with swords of honor; the legion's code.
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Originally Posted by Spartacus
