Fever Dream

Remember this memory..

Remember the sound we make

Remember the soul that shakes

Remember your heart when it’s strong and it breaks

Ruminate while I past time in a cornfield with a flashlight

Navigating with a junk mind reading junk mail from my past life.

The horn player from a dive bar plays the same song with a passion

I listen up with compassion while disregarding the fashion

I’m always looking for magic all of your stories are tragic R.E.M sleep with the baddest

Kingdom as far as the eye can see replay the death of a dynasty

Take a look around on the east side picking up my niece and she look about knee high

And I'm in the cut **** like a B side all around the world we throwing up peace signs

Still life I'm a mannequin dark side like I'm Anakin froze up while you panicking chilled out like I'm cannabis Hold hands in advance to this.

Speak about the revolution lost in the noise of your light pollution I’m in a diamond mind so reclusive

I looked into the eyes of Medusa. On the fence do you notice me?

The moonlight is engulfing me, my heart bleeds for the world to see

I’m Bell Hooks reading poetry, wine drunk singing Jodeci

I got my ear to the ground I can hear the devil talking on the south side. Climbed out a tail spin. I could tell you what it’s like on the down side. Retracing my steps, follow my shadow thru valleys and mountains. A treacherous journey follow the river to drink from the fountain. I’ve never gotten my hands clean, I’m just a wolf disguised as a Shepherd. Moo taught me how to move Light as a feather. The path to healing was never untethered. Reliving the moment, forgetting the feeling. Call it committed devotion. Eyes to the sky wit a prize like a million. Hard to focus when ya broke and brilliant. Mind wanna cope tryna poke thru the ceiling. Pride might choke from the smoke in the building. House on fire we was in that bitch chillin. Black weezer on a hashpipe. Bringin truth out the dark with a black light. Smokin a blunt at crash sight. Butterfly effect got me rolling with a jackknife. Ata boy got the bars with the metaphor, got the bulls eye locked on the matador. Matter fact push thru the floor we’ll be better for it. Push the pedal to the medal now we headed for it. Been a long time comin. Sometime feel it in the pit of my stomach. Renaissance fair at the top of the summit. Born in the race, we a hundred miles running.