4:28
The Dao is at it's last few drops.
The gloves are on,
Music pops.
A circus, a zoo
A field of spartans watch
Center. You.
Up a notch.
Clean of meat,
purged of wheat.
Unconditional strides, ego flies.
Out the door.
One can hope.
Like a dirty whore
Addicted to dope.
It eventually creeps back in.
So, is sin.
No comments:
Post a Comment