Blinded, but not my vision, just in every step it takes to make a rational decision, I'm itching to be a better person, enlighten up on all the drugs and cut down on all my cursing, rehearsing every word I'm bout to say, to my dismay, will make for a extremely difficult and completely fucked up day, I play around have my ups and downs, smirks sneers and smiles along with the occasional frown, I'm wound for sound, a king of noise without a crown, without a throne, till kingdom come no castle home, I often wonder across the land, and often wonder just who I am, who I was, and who I never will be, soft, because it takes battle scars to run with me, at the front of the pack ahead of the curve if your riding shotgun you better have nerve, no swerve and no detour, throwing caution to the wind and press the peddle to the floor, a tug of war of a race to set the pace outlined and retrace those steps to take towards saving face, or saying grace, give a hallelujah just in case there's a complete lack of war ship space, blatant distaste, a complete absurd word that's never heard when shit gets stirred up or simmered down and stored in a place lost and unfound, unbound, or untimed, or taken out of context and forced upon this rhyme like I'm branded as an autobot code name Optimas Prime, so what's the use in trying when the whole worlds usually lying or simply subconsciously buying into lies shifting into shape right before our very eyes, try to cut the ties that bind us so the blindest can't be visually compromised, yet as implies it's always wise to review reread revise everything not so rated G, then just like John Cena says you won't and fucking can't see me.

© Xplicit Kontent