| Thank you, sir
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| You’re welcome, sir
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| Dry-humping the ecstasy in Seattle, baffled, channeling Sappho
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| Gold lasso loops, while holding an actual noose
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| Goose down plumage (goose down), I chose to remain a student
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| Of the disaffected malcontent, Halifax hyacinths and
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| Soup of the alphabet, a higher sense emerged
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| After I abandoned lucid mouthiness, Church of Black Rowdiness
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| Roy Rogers hanky-chief, lost it in the jungle gym
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| Bungled whims, mangled limbs, fuck rap, I’s go back
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| To finagling, finessing, I haggle for the message
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| Bits of soul, perhaps another round of cribbage though
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| Wicker poetry, it’s wicked to ever proclaim «Woe is me»
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| Hoping they don’t notice me, I might proceed unaffected
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| I forget the date the statue was erected but I dust it daily
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| Mawgs be musket waving, calling it art form and I nod like, «True»
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| We should rob all conscious rhymers, pass the Aunt Jemima (thank you)
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| If life were a dream of euphoria
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| We would not have schizophrenia or paranoia
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| If life were a dream of euphoria
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| We would not have schizophrenia or paranoia
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| They yelling, «Bro, you inspire me»
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| Like I ain’t the nigga who said «Oh well» to life’s entirety (oh well)
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| The prince of solipsistic fortresses, immovable objects
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| And irresistible forces, we galloped in on horses
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| They yelling, «Bro, you inspire me»
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| Like I ain’t the nigga who said «Oh well» to life’s entirety (oh well)
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| If life were a dream of euphoria
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| We would not have schizophrenia or paranoia
|
| If life were a dream of euphoria
|
| We would not have schizophrenia or paranoia
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| If life were a dream of paranoia
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| We would not have euphoria or schizophrenia
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| If life were a dream of schizophrenia
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| We would not have… |