Delicate_Tendrils

Delicate_Tendrils

From the fifth floor I schedule my meeting with the moon
Stress, let it go so it don’t completely consume
When the vegetables bite back, and the grass starts to sting
I yell up to heaven to get me the hell out of this dream
I fell out of my stream of self-consciousness
And I got welts on my mind to signify all my accomplishments
No matter whose math you use to count the dead
Progress will never rest, in the hand that has no head
Bought my brain a cane and asked it to be my pimp
You know, to make sure I don’t get stuck up in my fuck ups