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Cryptic slow points, and fake kisses in poetic phrases kind of like gun points in your faces, in centimental form, making you feel torn, between guilt trips, bar dips, pipe sips 180 degree mind flips. Don't know where you're from sun of a gun, draining all the fun. Questioning who your real friends are as they pouring out their little hearts with dizzying mind spells, compelling tall tells, you dirt bag "peace" of ... mind split, don't know where you're going don't even know exactly what it is you're knowing. draining the stars that chase the sun and you're watching them die out one by one.