WHAT KIND OF FUCKED UP "FORUM" HAS BUSTED SMILY'S. WE CAN PUT A MAN ON THE MOONM, WHY CANT THE SO-CALLED GENIUSES THAT RUN THIS SHITHOLE KEEP THESE VALUBLE EMOTICON'S IN THERE PROPER WORKING ORDER?
I AM GOING TO HUFF SOME BACON GREAZE VAPORS, THIS SHIT BETTER BE FIXED WHEN I COME BACK.
Submitted by: The_Real_Skan on 29 July 2010 at 12:32
What do you mean keep it real, could someone please explain
When reality’s just light interpreted by your brian
And if mine and your perceptions ain’t one and the same
Which one of us is normal which one is insane
The skin never forgets a deep abrasion
Yet your brain often forgets deep conversations
This annoys me due to the nature of humanity
Want to remember the good, not just the bad things that happened to me
And yeah, I understand mu minds an intricate tapestry
So is the skin and that still records damage, see
This scar above my eyebrow’s from when I was a kid
And my skin has kept a record of the damage I did
Twenty some years down the line from that very day
Documentation of carelessness and the price that you pay
Yet it’s over complex brain that sits inside of my head
Can’t remember the last things me and my friend J said
I don’t want to be just devoid of desire
I don’t want to be another bird on the wire
I don’t want to be just a long on the fire
I don’t want to be that at all
I got a heart rate that’s erratic
I guess god fucked up the schematic
I can’t hack it and I panic and that makes it go pneumatic
Causing landslides t-t-t-tearing up my insides
Sometimes I think I’ll live forever, but I know I won’t
When I really should be working on my flow I don’t
I just sit here and read extracts from this note I wrote
Trying to find something that is worth a quote
Fixing up mad Bitches like lobotomy stitches
When I hit a tight rhyme see my leg it twitches
I ain’t into this game for the fame or riches
Good to write tight rhymes, street poems and scriptures
Now what’s the point I’m making? Why I am saying this out loud?
Am I convincing myself or pandering to the crowd?
You can hear every word, you would still never know me
Like Sean Penn could win 10 Oscars but he’ll still be Spicoli
I believe Hell is a place where the walls are covered with interesting charts and graphs. You also get a roommate; a guy who's always saying, "I told you you'd all end up dead. Who's the smart guy now, huh? Huh?"
Submitted by: Ashley Wilkes on 29 July 2010 at 08:41
