The untitled unknown, to own, to shine.
The rhyme that's mine, "Baby hit me one more time!"
To see thru the eyes, to be born of bread?
My staple is corn, but my body is dead.
With pure thoughts within my only struggle.
Havin to cuddle? You're sadly mistaken.
To rake in my possessions, to keep the Word to myself.
Leading a horse to water obviously doesn't help.
So now it's Hell on ur Earth, the bounty on ur head.
To think as a schizophrenic, and the gin n tonic doesn't soothe.
And to be of use, you need an Angelic Trade.
In other words, stack chips, stop with ur Lays.
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