• Stale prod, like a wrist tight full of chemicals.
    Might be the same as not knowing the truth.
    Yet looking at yourself in a pool like a troubled grown man,
    Is just like being one.
    Still you wondered why the abuse continued,
    Like a rain upon a fairy tale when you found out the message offended you.
    Slap to the face, guns ammo is the reality you can't stand.
    To bad its a stereotype played on the radio everyday,
    Can't escape it as it swells like a vacuum.
    And while were setting up the pins to a fortune of gold,
    Missing the mark was about as far as I got.
    Sit there on the stares wondering what happened to your life,
    As I continue with the last one I got.