wild wild horses, couldn't drag me away

yeah, how it's relatively easy to despise what isn't on your side
the opposing empire's relative to wreakage
never alloting relatives enough time
your attire drove over fashion roadkill only for
droves of wannabeyou's that killed what washed ashore
driving on your lonely score
if you try to run ahead of ze car you'll get tired
if you run behind it you'll be exhausted
what started as an ode to
tired gas station humour
somehow kinda rumoured then evolved into a suess fugue
b'cause i'm certainly no master rapper
entertaining no shame to tame fractured matter
your forever deconstructing trapdoors construing subdued tabboo pursuits
selling easy machines to full pursed men in suits
hands are folding clock wise while your master baiting
gynocynanide for the local man hating

no one counts on much, but for subsequent missed judgement
'flawed human' modeled business system slash lamented circus tenament
and i got a sis too
rode a yellow bus with her never wanted to admit that i had loved school
nah, maybe just learning was my passion
until i found the bourgeois building was only teaching for the masses
then i found i wasn't passing.

mine organic soil was depleted of nutritents
but i continue to collaborate with the worms to bear fruit
and it's an evening playing tic tac torn
warned by the worn the tricks to get and stay warmed
yes! :) tis the definition of crap poet speech
checked out of hotel scene and into chez fantasy
i'd forever rule over candylands and it's figurines
it was always in the summer when i
dubbed myself the snowflake queen

then i was all about the fossil quarry
queried whether you indulged in such secret stories
i can't bare to look upon my now fossilized acres at the ruin of mine old garden
the ground hardened how has that happened when i had never left my backyard
and there's still 6000 stories to share that we'd never get bored with
so give the girl a prize
relived it curled up and wised
upon a rooftop lies a silent spy
sets me on fire, steele supplies
when you stop drop and talk shop you'll realise
i'm an amateur you should throw me in your desk drawer
and yet when coarse rhyme expounds on fat
so what if my less streamlined babbling brook
of thought sounds just like that
now brooke's babbling about her bouts with broken complexions
wary of detection that's she's somehow defective
i haven't found it as scary. that is, my reflection
i do believe
if i looked and it was you who smiled back at me time would seem
to overpass the burned out bridges of the past
and certainly i would see my facial expression finally matched the piece at last