It’s Always Sunny In Florida

I keep telling myself, I wish I’m not afraid (repeat) Verse 1: This is the sound waves of my blood placed with grace all over your face make you finally gaze at Outersider A.K.A. The Runaway Slave of the Human Race. A much needed fucked up way to trace the case of the southwest days; the land of poisonous snakes on a gorgeous lake, main base of the clickbaits, ready to sway with a gape takes whoevers’ space at a fast pace awakes finger twitching spray the mace, not knowing exactly what’s real, what’s fake. I need a long break for goodness’ sake. Verse 2: This is an off-kilter melody of my sweat, high-stakes happening. Body contacts the Grim Reaper’s breath, heart starts panicking. Sleep and I have a hit-or-miss relationship, desiring an innate run trip to the elation pit. The core of it all got defaced by those who dictates other’s self-care to be replaced into oblivion, what a disgrace. Grind of weekday replays relate sanity decay wanting any sedate sensory relay. Double-edged sword display. Focus can turn distrait, triggers a return of degrades. Damned If I Do, Damned If I Don’t. I’ll be displaced; my significance will be erased, money can be repaid. Time couldn’t get a retake for a remake. My handicapped conversation skill didn’t win; especially in most debates. My choice of words was misplaced, or the thought process delayed. My existence is a mistake, I embrace into a weaponry intake; saved it inside back-up external data, just in case. Verse 3: Audible bottled up tears with my anatomy’s tissue sparked from a lighter of passion to be true Molotov Cocktail Party teach you how not to ignore issues. You went through some shit, yea me too. I see through your igloo. By all means, keep using your yesterdays’ hardship to completely downplay mine. You told me to grow a spine while you whine about freedom of speech suddenly being undermined. All because of a big bank of swines losing a couple of dimes. News flash assholes, I’ve been cancelled the entire goddamn time! Sample: I told you all of us are broken…the question is how are you gonna fix it, how far are you willing to go? Bridge: Shredded skin with shattered bones at my psyche since 2005. When empathy got beaten to a gory pulp in front of my very own eyes. The oxygen keeps my rotting flesh walking. I let music do all the talking. 3rd Verse: Sunshine state, gun shine taste. The actual super-predators are at a yacht on a fossil fuel lunchtime paste. There’s a 9mm on the back of my head stimulation, extremely apparent insinuation of a hostage situation. Grand gesture purchasing silence, preserving backdoor violence. 4rth Verse: I’m still in the front seat-belt screwed, first-ticket deluge. Twice physically felt mute, the third strike might be the official absolute shell-view. No matter how terrifying everything catalyzed, It’s always sunny in Florida; hell’s paradise. Chorus: Fascism is winning, (Although) I’m still breathing hanging from the ceiling (3x) I’m trying to make my autonomy stop bleeding. I keep telling myself...I will not let my suffering go to waste.