Thanks For the Words, Md

It’s six dimensions, seventeen senses The body of my text posess extra caring for death sentences Set your alarm, cause’ it’s to late for you to adjust The streets are too loud for crying, for help or for dazzling lust It’s to dangerous to speak, to feel, to dream A five minute doom from a hell’s judge and you’re no longer free You wanna know how to stay alive? Well, you better learn how to combine It’s pure mathematics, not that simple, but sometimes too much easy After all, this equation it’s already wheezy I can assure you that no man’s poison you’ll keep you from decipher Otherwise, pray to not get killed in the web driver viper