Poetz Ward

once again my fingers touch the bord/simplifyed anymore would result in me lousin access to the dead poets ward/of tha sanitarium marching down tha halls shootin guns an bangin drums/gankin ones an burnin tens while flushin dubs/see thats a metaphore frum tha slums like sayin he betta stop runnin his gums/frum where i cum that shitl get ya blood ta run till it pools an quagulates in mud/but i didnt approch tha portal of the gods above ta speak bout actions of a thug, but more bout tha pulls an tugs of love/a soul drained lika tub witta removed plug/susidal thoughts only shared with tha semi loaded snub/russian roulet witta stap wraped ina bathroom rug so my neighbors wont know what happend for months/i neva even got ta try my luck i couldnt end my lifes run/so i posses sum sort of sweet pain behind my chest plate but in fornta my lungs/lemme simplify this techtonic mind controling muscel enhancing drug i call poetry mixed with calicum/