somebody help me!
Drunk on the edge of a cliff
thinking it's healthy!
I hope you felt me...
I know I didn't...
'Least my rising soul
won't recognize me when I'm finished.
Eyes timid, the fire in 'em
'bout to die cynics--
my limits, 'bout as high
as I am, but I'm livid.
Why scrimmage, when I can play
a real game with death?
Fuck razor blade checkers,
Imma change to chess.
Cuttin' off poker hands
with aces on my wrist.
Forget Russian Roulette,
stationed at the hip.
Time to seal the deal for real,
end my dance with chance...
Take the hands of the Reaper
n' prance, entranced.
Spinnin' near the ledge,
inchin' closer.
Trippin' on my own feet,
kickin' boulders.
Signallin' vultures, with
horrified screams...
Damn, don't you hate them
glorified dreams?
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