holding temptations in the palm of my hand;
from where i stand, there is no promised land.
god-broken vows put a rise to demand.
omens of sand, still i don't understand
how many cycles it takes to become
like birds of hum; numb from the blues.
who is my muse if my music is fake?
give me a break; i don't know when to take it.
make it be known to all of the masses
that in calabasas, time passes
slower and steadier; structured by choice,
but you've got a voice that toys with your soul.
you're out of control when you go for a stroll,
choking on cannabis spliffs to blue banisters.
raw vegan; coconut water in canisters
somewhere else in the world, it's still summer.
winter is here an i'm becoming number.
got a drummer; the vocals aren't ideal;
for some reason, they don't portray my real life
and how i'm barely alive.
my spacesuit is melting and i'm out of air;
in despair; spare me, god.