This city's spit is on the tip tip tip of my tongue
My stinging wit tells me I've had enough of gypsy punks
The crackheads and drunks I avoid on my rides home at dusk
Claustrophobic rust has got me feeling a little stuffed up
They glare through me with their obsidian vision and I can't help but Itching on the inside at their broken wises
I need primordial peace
To take my mind off the street
Before I boil over I just need some room to breathe
Whats the use in
Wheres the sense in
I get so lost in judging every passerby
Counterproductive
Bad intentions
Obsidian
Losing compassion is the biggest fashion trend in the years
Found enough deception to fill the void been left by my peers
Watch the hours pass and hold them like a souviner
Crack the hourglass just to hear the sand spill out my ears
I hear the sand spill like a landfill of time
Stuck in a standstill
Its easy to see I've got no patience for complacency
Can't hold a candle in the corridoors of my disease
What I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry for making a mess
Wont do it anymore
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