My devil(s)[inside]developed levels of pride
Experimental like lentils in rented tents in the sky
Potential vibe about which rental to buy
& whether the reverend’s high or just a hell of a guy
Relish / rhyme, settle with intelligent shine
Keep the thoughts — running — & so exercise my mind
I’ll take the rest in stride
Make the best of life
My shaking breaths & break|ing sweats have caked the stress in — lines —
(Re)placed my bets & thrived:
Peep the logic
Keep watching these streets bleed (deep with toxins)
…
knowledge is power,
I was <hollow> but now can’t swallow following cowards
Give me a minute,
Or let me borrow an h o u r
My sorrow had f-l-o-w-e-r-e-d
…
now rhythm gives me strength
To move within the depths
To soothe the inner_me(+ss)
To prove that
loose
screws
can boost the
b i g g e r
s t e p s
So I grew some ligaments
E x p a n d e d horizons,
branded silence & landed in a land of the giants
When I doubt myself
Not reaching out for help
I reach down in the ground for the hounds of hell
& there I (dr)own (in) the sounds
**That surround my s/hell**
Now I’ve found a well:
With the tools of the trade in a school that was made for us fools to be saved
Spiritual program, grip it with both hands
The physics of a miracle in lyrical romance
From broke &
b
rok
en
How hope can (o)pen
The rope of choke(-)holds into physical growth then
Known to poke (holes) in the pits of emotion
Frozen <so cold>
in the midst of that ocean
Remote
No control >>>> in the c\r\i\p\p\l\e\d devotion
The smoke & the stoked coals & the whips & the lotions
Difficult notions, it’s the trip of the potions
It’s the whisper of the miserable in syl/la/ble motion
Little unspoken, lift of an omen
It’s the strip of addiction & the gift of these tokens
Floatin’: & craving for the sun
To make up for the days I was a slave for drugs
Pain, rusted chains & the tainted sludge
To emerge from the earth with the taste of love
When I doubt myself
Not reaching out for help
I reach down in the ground for the hounds of hell
& there I (dr)own (in) the sounds
**That surround my s/hell**
Now I’ve found a well:
With the tools of the trade in a school that was made for us fools to be saved