Untitled
Things are different
Whats the piece thats missing
Feeling the wind push back
thru all the bytchin
Riffing
Like overdosin a perscription
In my cross hairs the vision
So whats the point of me
writing this then
Idk
I will go back and forth til im
pointed north
Whats the sort
The one thats hard to court
Hard to handle hard to export
Idk
Ill clear a path as i go
As i keep walking
Fo sho
Right now im breathing so
This season is the time to gain
control......
Peace
Copyright © Eddie Merritt | Year Posted 2013
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