(feat. Buck 65) 



[Buck 65] 

sounds like an air conditioner, the pounding of pistons 

bodies negotiating, a dog barks in a distance 

crickets and bullfrogs quietly graphic 

the turning on pages, the droll roar of traffic 

the pencil on a paper, the wind in a chimney 

thoughts in my head, hollow and (thinny?) 

alarmed clocks' sirens, the creeking of floorboards 

surf on a rocks, echoes in corridors 

(?) riots, head on collisions 

the ringing of telephones, the cooing of pigeons 

after new playground voices next door 

defining stillness and starewells I explore 

electrical hum of anger and fear 

clothes hitting the floor, a bug in your ear 

the turning of concrete trucks in a soil 

trees in a forest, a (pattern?) full boiled 

I can hear myself blink, where did she go 

down in the hole, buried in snow 

under the water, should I fail to care 

I go out and I follow a long trail of hair 

what if I'm caught, what if it goes wrong 

what was I thinking, I forgot to put clothes on 

there's a crack in the sky, a pain in my shoulder 

when I was a kid, it's the same when I'm older 

I'm out of control with a crow in a shoebox 

out in the street wearing nothing but two socks 

now I'm confused from brighter to duller 

the long trail of hair has begun to change color 

from red to jet black, I just don't get that 

the last thing I need at this point is a setback 

my heart and my (?), it hurts when I swallow 

I got to stay focused and continue to follow