The Cycle

Taking half naked pictures for the gram, girl you so ridiculous
I’m readin comments from wishers lustin of kissin it
Same type, that like to hit, then disappear and sh–
I paint a picture vivid, poured some Everclear on it


You know the saying, “Misery, she loves company”
Baby, I love you just a little more when you’re humping me
Now she’s convinced that this, the way that it’s supposed to be
She’s seeks the same attention, right after we stroke I leave


Cyclicial selling of souls, for social media
B–ches, pimpin’ & n—as mixed with comedians
On a way different level, had to change the frequency
In search of a woman, with common decency

Never did I believe it’d happen easily
Loch Ness shawty, ain’t nobody seen her recently
Yet in the hollowed out ruins of land How It Used To Be
Sometimes, one can still find the secret of the ring.







Fear is a Liar.

Fear rarely speaks truth. When fear speaks truth, it becomes fate anyway, so why even bother with fear?

Fear is the rest of the world, sitting at your table, drinking your wine, all the while disrespecting your house. Most of us would banish a disrespectful guest from our house, yet we allow fear to stay. Hell, we EMBRACE fear. Fear has nothing of it’s own, yet we make sweet love to fear, our bethrothed. We produce an heir for fear, Frustration, Prince of the Unhappy, Wardon of the Hateful.

Actually, when you think about it fear seems less like the definition we know. Remember, fear rarely speaks truth. When we listen to fear, we listen to a liar or a fraud. How many liars and frauds would you invite to sit at YOUR table, drink YOUR wine and disrespect YOUR house?

Get the fuck out fear, I don’t even know who you are anymore.