steep the flat is where you scorn buckling steady breathing weed your thoughts there's something missing yield to you why the strain sour taste with every word at loss for
flat is where you scorn Buckling, stead you breathing Weed your thoughts There's something missing Yielded to you Why the strain? Sour taste with every word At loss for
anemic For for the family, I'll be squeezing, no reason Blood work, nobody leaving this bitch breathing Niggas on the low, kidnapped my flow Coulda asked for
arms they hold down amongst the words that made in these fields. From pressure to pain I wish to stay away In the measure I test with your love for me
hold in your last breath and stare assure me your metronome left arm stick shift is stuck on the right words in your ear could you hear me loud and clear
anchor's up, your ship has been sailed. Close your eyes to fight the demons deep within your mind. Satisfy your worst intentions. I'm your sacrifice. Dressing yourself up to kill; You do this for
, ugly motherfucker for faces of art addicts Just for my people Persecute plagiarist dangerous at a close range Dose brains close to the range To rope frames for
falling in love is before you even know it. Falling down, Falling down, so hold your breath, Prepare for the worst, cut your losses. In the perfect word
the call of god like a child obeying Preaching the very same power they killed martin for saying But you can't break the hold and not holding your breath Thought if I died for
lying Posing for your still visions Acedemic postcard prisons Raise your chin, love Purged a poem I swore was finished Heaping lines half chewed unconscious Settle on a plot, chalk another loss
[in background] "you're tryin to cover up the holes in your sneakers.." [x2] [The Grouch] When you first get it it's shining and sparkling you hold
a bitch-hoe And noone really cares what your mom think though 'Cuz it's all about the money, black trucks and bumps So shut your mouth, get on your knees and take your loss
it. I?m just a boy at loss for words. I?m just a boy, at loss for words. Don?t say that we aren?t failing (at loss for words) (x3) Don?t say. Come on
, unknown grave On his dying words he prays Tell the world of Paschendale Relive all that he's been through Last communion of his soul Rust your
a father's wish falls in shame Never count your losses while adopting this bitter rage Rewritten story of past events Attaining breath within sickness Another reminder around your
near The gift of life Treasure it, for it is pure Embrace it with all your heart Not a thousand years of pain Would be worth the loss of this I hold for