| Goosedown in the ghost town push the Peugeot around
|
| Back-in angle parking front the Polo Grounds
|
| Willie Mays plaque same Haze from way back
|
| Dominican Frankincense Sandalwood burnt cinnamon
|
| She not around no mo You wonder where she go
|
| You wonder who she know You wish she was a ho
|
| Your true self show the rest superimposed
|
| All these misery lights remind me I’m home
|
| Cruising slow, stopped copped mofongo to go
|
| Stereo Diamonds on that Wood Pocket Fulla Stones
|
| You wonder if she alone You can’t hit her phone
|
| Pride too strong turn the loud on
|
| Wonder if she really gone
|
| Like gone, gone
|
| C’mon you know she gone that’s a phantom arm
|
| Opera catwalk snicker Rambo knife in my mouth nigga
|
| Best seats in the house
|
| Is it real? |
| Is it really?
|
| Is it real? |
| Is it really really?
|
| Is it real? |
| Is it really? |
| is it really really?
|
| Is it real? |
| Is it really? |
| is it really really?
|
| Is it real? |
| Is it really? |
| is it really really?
|
| Pact sealed with cemetery silence
|
| This is me you and this room and bearing witness
|
| This is not my body
|
| However you move I’m behind
|
| Any decision you commit to
|
| There’s no windows in this waiting room
|
| Nobody should have to leave here alone
|
| So many different stories
|
| A common thread
|
| We’re all on the final chapter
|
| Small talk with strangers awkward laughter
|
| Lowering my eyes
|
| I’m not sure how to really feel if I was being real
|
| Cocktail of relief and guilt got my stomach in knots
|
| Watching the clock second hand stopped
|
| Why the fuck is there a TV here playing
|
| Rob Schneider movies on loop
|
| Hunger pang I fast in solidarity
|
| The air is stale
|
| Color drab
|
| Death surrounds us all with a familiar squeeze
|
| We come in need making offerings
|
| The prayers go up and the blessing come running down red
|
| The prayers go up and the blessing come running down red |