Fly Paper.

Fly Paper.
(with Dustin & Explicit)

– (Explicit)
I’ve been,
Down on my luck,
Who really,
Gives a single fuck?
Nope; Not a soul,
There’s nothing,
Lightning I was struck,
I don’t give a,
God damn single fuck,
Bout anything,
I mean anything,
…… (Explicit)
Torn wings,
I’m dying to fly.
The warnings,
I’m dying to try.
The war brings,
I’m ready to ride.
The storm brings,
I’mma still survive.

Cocked back,
Fuckin’ loaded.
You tell me pretty lies,
Sugar coated.
Fuck that negativity,
I can’t fuck with those,
Who chose ulterior motives.
Those minds;
Been damn near corroded.
Digitally brainwashed & decoded,
Dynamite exploded,
That’s right; The matrix reloaded.
I’m so fucking devoted,
I’mma pry myself,
From this paper.
Float away,
Like waves of vapor.
You know success,
Got that mystery flavor.
Cud life forever though,
You know;
Damn well I be that rager,
Who’s trying soo hard to,
His psychotic behavior.
I be light-years away,
When I catch that buzz,
Like a pager.
I be that little league,
Swinging for the majors.
There’s money to be made,
Ladies & gentlemen,
Place your wagers.
Will I make it out alive,
Or die;
Inna firestorm of phasers?
Incoming enemy lasers,
Bottle of liquor,
I be taking more shots,
Than Brazzers.

— (Dustin)
If I had anything to give,
I would have something other than a four letter word, but all I have is the world,
I want my cake
and to eat it to,
No, but not me,
I want the recipe!
Take nothing for everything,
See sincerity with clarity,
Take grains of sand,
Build an entire universe in the palms of my hands,
Toss up planets and galaxies,
rotate them and revolve them,
in perfect balances,
One mind like a mindogamist!
To be clear,
I sense stress,
No less and nothing more than what’s left after anything over and under back under to go over what something even is,

Paper fly high,
like B.O.B.’s conscious rhymes, premeditated mind massage,
leave you with a orgasmic synthetic thought,
Euphorical prophetic perpetuating, pineal stimulating,
Chemical endorphinating mind state,
Like I’m welcomed in the black parade,
Gerard Way,
Flow like a bisexual gone straight,
I’ll bury ya,
Just to grow ya,
I’ll cut you up
And roll ya,
Light you up to take a hit,
Inhale your soul to get to know ya,
Exhale ya spirit so I can show ya…
What it’s like,
To finally be free and live ya life,
And fly by like time trapped in a tear traumatized by past sight watered down with the feeling of feelings tucked away in a lonely cry…

— (Explicit)
Getting caught up,
In my mistakes.
Reminding me,
Of the bad decisions,
That I constantly make.
Every time; It never fails.
I can always;
Depend on myself to be,
When these tracks derail.
I tried to move but,
My ego;
Is cracked & frail,
Through the breeze,
With a busted sail,
Your judgement,
Rains over me like hail.
Can’t let this go.
Gotta let you know.
Just trying,
To speak from my soul.
Just losing control.
Make me feel complete.
Don’t like,
Having to compete.
A moment of peace.
This way; I get to move,
At my own pace,
At least you,
Don’t have to feel,
All; This pain,
That I sadly conceal.
It all;
Just gets too fuckin’ real.
My time;
They wanna try to steal.
Like an orange,
It’s a bad habit that,
I must peel.
A dark shadow,
Treading on my heels.
Fuck it;
I’ll hit the ground,
With burning wheels.

— (Dustin)
Fly paper, traps my mind with no eraser, verbal bullets without tracer, tapered tears, tattered with fear, emotions capered, feminism beaten and battered like I raped her, fake sinner without 40 acres, shameful ways shipped off like my ship sailed but wont propel without its maker, engulfed in the fly flame of heaven sent but a hell made demeanor, who’s meaner than mean, I mean, I’m mean but can’t stand someone who’s meaner…than me, there can’t be, no one left to be free from the lyrics flying higher than this paper…

I’m still flyin,
I don’t believe in belief,
I just do it,
Without even tryin,
I guess that makes me a liar,
A hypocritical,
Believe in something,
Even if makes you cynical,
I am not meant for this,
I pretty much,
more or less,
Picked up this idea,
pinned up on Pinterest,
I am not of interest,
Paid for this,
pad of paper,
By prayin for people,
Who offer money,
on a plate of a steeple,
I need to…
Be who…
I wanna be,
See you…
See me,
I need to,
Get to,
The point of this,
Passed the point of a return,
No return,
Or exchanges,
For a Life meant to be,
as it should be,
Never to be,
Other than what we want it!
Wonder what,
what if,
And if we will ever live up to the potential put within us and placed upon our metaphorical piece of paper,
portrayed to set our ways of fable,
Mysterious days,
Of Kane and Abel,
Enabling us able to,
Who, what, and when to choose,
The choice,
This paper flyin like I make it levitate from another brain of a mind state,
to create and transmutate pain into,
any and everything,
Sane in sane,
claims of real,
Faith to fate,
Trust today,
We’re all awake,
our eyes are just stuck,
Because we worry we’re not suppose to look this way…
Fly Paper
…… (Explicit)
Get stuck,
On the same old shit.
And over,
God it makes me sick.
Always hits me,
Like a ton of bricks.
Set out;
The flypaper,
To make me stick.
Is based on,
The things that you pick.
The things,
That you don’t need,
You can blame it all on greed.
You can blame it all on me.

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