If light trusts light, and dark trusts dark, Then I don't know who to tell that I got both inside my heart. Like every secret from the start, just confess it to my art -- Every shard of truth stark against the blackness like a star. Many mornings without warning, I can feel the barren omen That my mind just cannot find the right amount of serotonin, oh... Excuse the recluse, he's a loner gettin' stoned, and Chugging cheap beer as if there's cheer in every cold one. For a moment, there is. Languid limbs turn to spaghetti, Got the spins and feelin' heady, stone-cold lips ain't so heavy. Got a bevy of drunk tokens that I spit up from the ocean Of my throat and floating head whenever mouth becomes open. I'll lecture for a while as if there's treasure and there's style In the wretched bile I'm puking when my ego's in denial. Oh, that vile and wily white kid. At least he's not violent, Even if his mind is flyin' like a pilot who's been tied up, Or a pirate who's survived a fine time in the storm. Hell hath no fury like a dark night's scorn. Pourin' forth a ragged grin as acrid skin fills the air. Reaching up to Providence, it's obvious there's nothing there. Oh, I'm scared into a frenzy when the sky looks that empty. I like my friends plenty, but the bad men still tempt me. So I often walk alone along the fault lines of hell, With no freedom from the demons who believe in what they sell. They swell behind my face and feast on every tiny faith. There is no respite in my brain, but it still seems the safest place.

I spit rhymes until that shit shines. Outsider, I'm strivin' to stay gold. My soul unfolds like unrolling red carpets. Pardon all this garbage, it's a sparkler in the darkness. Heart skips, tart lips -- fucking starving artist. Tryin' to start shit, but it's harder than a yardstick. Do I make you carsick? Baby, try and keep up, Maybe we can roll some weed up, roll the window down and speed up, Smokin' reefer, going down to southern lands like Kiefer. No guns, punish with puns, replenish my funds, son. Eat a waffle, hit a brothel, And my hair look so good, got ya trumped like Donald. I'm blessed to blossom in the autumn. I represent for Austin, for the lost, and for the awesome. Often high and my cough is violent. Choking on this spliff like I need the Heimlich.

I read the news today, oh boy. Horror cloaked in hope, I couldn't look away for the noise Was so blatant in them black & white pages, All our joys are so vacant, A complacent generation excavating all the patience and the Rations, irrationally manufacturing casualties. Actually, I'm thirsty in this heat... Man kills man, 'cause man's gotta eat, But there ain't no fruits or berries, roots or dairies in the streets. Hater kills hater 'cause he's got a brutish mouth, And there ain't no room for saviors when the town's gone south. There is no justice in nature, just guns & erasers. They'll make sure that history is written with razors. What happens when your neighbors start asking you for favors With a paper grin? Grasp behind the back called Kalishnikov. Mazeltov with maletovs, gnawing all the olives off The rotted branch. The dead dance with red hands. Humans are so funny, our plans are so ugly, And imagining humanity takes my lunch from me. I can't eat money, I'm so hungry, I just stand still. Future historians read about it in the landfill. Won't understand why they can only find "69 Ways To Fuck Your Man's Drill." Killed us off. Couldn't eat up all this gloss, oh my gosh... I'm so hungry. I'm so hungry, and the dead spines from all these headlines are just rotting in my tummy. Treyvon, you got lost in the gloss. And Zimmerman is sittin' in his skin, made of gloss Trying to slurp all the gloss, jerkin' off to Minaj. The Middle East with mean streets, is poppin' off, But all the bombs and 'Allahs" don't make a peep against the gloss. Hold up, Snowden, was it all a lost cause? I'm a camel and this gloss is an awful lot of straws... Oh my gosh. And hidden in the sentences of Lennon, hear the end begin. I read the news today, won't make that mistake again.

Oh, how these days turn me gray at the follicles. Tryin' not to swallow, but I'm findin' it's impossible. Fallow fellows force-feedin' false truths, and I'm hollow, Wallowin' in weary nights: crash the moon like Apollo. And oh, how these blues construe the hues of gloomy skies. Pale black of the night aligned with bags under my eyes. To my surprise, to my chagrin, my lens is scratched and failing fast. Can't see my shining past through all this dreary overcast. ... Oh, how these weeks keep me from sleep with bleak uncertainty. Eternity just burns in me. Fever dreams heat fervently. A thousand cloud enshroud me down. I misbehave and crave the crash, Straining to be staining glass, but outside it's just dust and ash. And oh, how these weeks fucking shriek like a tourniquet. I can't beat back the nervousness when I think how much worse it gets. These Grade-A gray days: a grim haze of turbulence. That's when I close my eyes to peek inside my mind's circus tent. ... What's next, what's next? Think I'll run away from home. Travel with the dancing lights beneath the striped dome. But oh no, there goes my high, high hopes. No matter where I am, I'm always walking fucking tightropes.