400
I'm ill-minded, but still guided.
I see violent images of silent bullets,
Woke up after I took it.
Death in the air
The despair within a pair of earbuds
There’s no love.
You’re getting ***ed with no glove,
I need cleansing, no tub.
Skin rubs with the devil in a set of high heels
And an intent to kill any hope I have of making a name,
Or at least an impact.
I want to keep my life intact, but every day is packed
With hope that I can push through the darkness and be a part
Of an army of angel souls,
But I'm sitting in the cold.
Staying bold, gladiator
New Roman of this time.
Blurry eyes when I’m losing my mind.
I'm trying to find an opening to freedom or the key to success,
But it’s like playing chess with the barrel aimed at my chest.
You say you see the golden road, and I ask “what's the catch?”
The mindset of a man that's been blown off his path.
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