13800
D@mn you caught me slippin, feel the muzzle to me dome,
see if it wasn’t you it’d be your cuz who’d do me wrong,
cause all of y’all cavort in packs but where the story lacks, is where reality arrives to blow apart the back,
of craniums, insane to some but yes it so exists,
like how you burglarized my heart and stole it with a kiss,
but no you can’t return it since there’s not one to replace,
your beauty hits me point blank range; a shotgun to the face.
I see you and my head is splattered all across the room,
my mind’s afloat in carnage and it’s all because of you,
remember how in “Ghost†the demon souls accost the dead,
one look at you is all it takes for me to lost my head.
The proper word is ‘lose’ but see the option’s up to you,
if ev’rytime you come in view they have to mop a dude,
from off the pavement save it; disappear without a trace,
your beauty’s criminal, and like a shotgun to the face.
©2013
The Cunning Linguist
