No.1

29 4 7
                                    

Accidentally delated this one
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Contains the criminally inclined.
Ties the knot, the savior to wood.
Cried out by the crazies.
The men of rules, and the men against.
Not even Houdini escaped the binds he was in.

Invisible, like make believe we tell our kids.
Are they really there? Or is this all just a state of my head?
Contorting my self into the box, I remain in

Eyes closed, I lay wide awake
My mind is bi, conflicted, semi, divided
My mind is a factory
Broken gears, all it's spits out are broken parts
Send backs, Return on receipt, To the cheepo depart
Back to the good ole' factory
All it, All I am is broken part

All I know, is this is that.
Some fucked up state, my brain remains.

It's the crazies call
Echoing down the pysch halls
Dorms lined with all the broken pieces, broken parts
Always a pot of gold
Like a glass case, It's always there
Always blocking my way

Shoot the clarity into my brain
The milligrams dissolve in my veins
Like a smoker, a piece of tape
Sons and daughters of the hunters
Become the hunted, this day

From the playground court
To the high school hallways
Same prison, Different name
A dog to my feet
It like the print the cops know my name

I just wish
Wish, wish upon a star
It wasn't this way
Well row, row, row my boat

The real world doesn't work that way.

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