Yeah. I wrote this a few nights ago after a bad acid trip, filled with weird memories.

When I write I find myself broken between this style that's very, chaotic and senseless or writing very senseful things with a good pacing. This is the chaotic senseless part. Be gentle.

A sparklking mystery this course of our history
Riddled with scarabs and bugs of that nature
The sheets filled with worms, where the dead coat the sack
She won't find any cure at the end of the track

And all romance is dead, save 3 wounds in her head
Save the crowns for our kings, not the jailbait who sings
And the food for the rich, just to impress the damn bitch
He found our girl's cure in the palm of his hand.

Pinmarked in the vulture shelter
Eyeing that one's carcass: PLEASE
Nostrils sense a horrid odor
Tracking down your body; SEIZE
Dam and narrows shift and falter
Rotting up the tarp and BREEZE
Cats and kids with loaded pistols
That ones starin at you FREEZE

Frost on the sun and fire on the sea
space wants to be air, slice up and around
Cus the cortex holds secrets, key to the crime
But its gone, you see, at the end of the day

All her pills made her dizzy, and forgetful at that
It's time for a change and a good one you rat

Frozen in the cold of summer
Burning up the ice you SEE
Melting with the pavement's corners
Seeing things that you could BE
Levis break, you run for shelter
The rest drift out to open SEA
Snakes and men with cakes and candy
That ones staring right at ME

One more cup
One last hit
One more cup
one last hit: STOP
Lots of pedals.