Money plagues my mind, switch the tracks of time
Acid rain blinds my third eye, don’t know how to get by
Spend a bunch of hours just to make a couple dollars
Commas slice shared psilocybic senses to slivers
Brought up in sadistic caste classes, advertised as equal economy
Mama raised a surviving savage, knew I wasn’t average
Brain bleaching dead presidents hijack my bare-necessary neurons
Combat by mixing chemical wishes, need a compound for steady ground
Grass covered and death soiled: no rug that can be pulled out.

I exist in this era of endlessly broadcasted terror
The product of pyroclastic financial pressure
Social conformity, institutionalized religious error
Mention the devil, they’ll fuck off forever

Yet We are living in Apocalyptic Times.

At twenty one every night I dreamed of feudal ease
Now twenty two, pick fingers bloody to be rid of chronic paper fleas
Twenty three in a year, can’t tell if my thumb will stay sage, or stain green
Christmas watercolors wiped away by handkerchiefs of posies
I’m so fucking tired of tirelessly trying
Yung and strung and silver tongued and the sole reason I’m not yet done
Is because Her laugh sings symphonies of sweet salvation
Because She deprograms propaganda with smirks and earnest blue eyes that imbue security
because when compared the clattering spare change spite in my pocket pales into obscurity