Automatic asthmatic
In a manic state of
Mind, panic
My mind’s just like the Atlantic
All the food just tastes metallic
Kickflips and parlor tricks
and my life just seems so static
Each night’s so cold, it just feels arctic
I’d just like to know what exactly is that which makes me tick

Sick rhymes, sick thoughts, sick lives, sick me
Why don’t they disappear at the count of three
I’d like to go to sleep but they won’t let me be
These voices in my head, they’d tear me apart happily
But that’s alright, y’see? No it’s not, it’s cruelty
It’s messed up that I can’t see
That they have me at their grasp, suffocating my psyche
The air, I mean, my thoughts, I mean, my identity
Squeezed out of my heart, mind and soul, they’re grasping me so tightly

And now I can’t breathe.


This is meant to be a rap, okay?


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s