i was born bitter.
herbal earthen aftertaste of urban living
rat racing in a tracksuit
tracing, chasing shadows
boxing facing my opponent on a box spring
an ode to the lock and loaded
cause the eyes look crazy off.
something’s not right head slightly cocked
my words are the key but they might be locked.
the gate’s been closed and the flows been turned off
when the water runs dry i take my clothes off
i’m searching for a savior in a flavored soda bottle
no i’m not a coca cola can collector.
i’m a relegated relic of the past
a fragile agile intellect inspector.
go on look at my brain. it’s bubbling again,
carbonated water plus bleached sugar cane,
sweet and tender on a bender to drain
to the last drop i can’t stop no time to train
mamma told me there’d be days like this
when the kiss of bliss was intertwined with this spitting vision divine.
the mind is a prison, and the blind have risen.
always bumping in the night, much to the delight
of those who prefer a spark in the dark to a hole in the light and they don't wanna fight
and i’m sort of supposing you’ve chosen to live life frozen
in time. but i sip wine with poison lined lips kissing time
when there’s noone left to leave behind

with a theme unknown i dream alone,
when i feel the need i’m free to roam.
i walk in a park and when it gets dark, i take the long way home
when i grow up i want to die,
and i want death to be a thespian,
roll the cameras and let’s begin, action action action.
(my best friend's girl will be a lesbian,
knock knock knock please let me in).

i make landfall, kiss the ground then stand tall
all this still life. still the distillery needs
the ripe fruit of the gods to feed the need for knowledge.
and i guess i never knew the ledge and let alone the border,
but i took one jump a leap of faith and it made me hate disorder.
i found myself sorta where i thought i’d be, but a part of me was sad,
i’d been had i thought i was doing something special now i’m faced with the fact
i’m just a fad.
i’m gonna fades away in 88 shades of grey
and maybe more the sore grows i’m sure those holes in my brain
aren’t hostile although i’m in a lot of pain.
on the rocks of reality dreams get splashed,
in the throes of oblivion throats get slashed
and goats get sacrificed to rid our backs of vice
when actually the monkey is not likely to suffice.
when pressed for luck i chuck the dice,
fuck the mice and men what might have been advice to follow
is now manifestos to swallow.
washed down with asbestos, and what i’ve left those who drink instant coffee
and talk in impossible options is a word of caution,
i’ll be watching your thoughts drift off when you get soft.
and i’m not afraid to go there, but i know where i’m not wanted
undaunted i wander through haunted homes i stumble the stairs
crumble unearthing bones in the rubble
and here comes trouble it’s the walking dead
you read my thoughts and fed my thirst
and talked enough to let me finish this verse.
if its not best then it’s the worst.
i’m a wise man arriving devising new ways to be enterprising.
and it’s tough surviving the places where i’ve been waiting
faces that leave me feeling frustrated

hello to your face and good riddance to bitter cynics like you,
i hate the venom you spit sentiment i don’t believe to be true.
it's this creeping culture, the feeding vulture eats decaying soul made flesh,
they hold less control than ever but put this patent on fresh
and now it’s trademarked and parked in the executive space.
dark laws don’t apply in the darkside. buy my record and i'll give you a free water
so how’s about a toast getting close to where most go over.
my glass is half full but i ain’t close to being sober.


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Walk In The Park song meanings
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