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Description
Ike; like biting on lite brite tick tack toe fights, to gain the right to far-sight, bringing the night back to

day, frayed ways to say how you really feel; rocking back on your heels to steal and etch a sketch

kiss, pure bliss in sound bytes, like kiting mobs through Detroit, that circuitry bite.

"Tell me I'm beautiful, that my rolls are Royce, my fat pockets are choice! Fat chance!"

Pixel me blue, through seersooth Bluetooth recruits. Nameless suits compromising dignity. Black metal

sand helps me crystallize shapes these days.

"Call me beautiful!"

She begged.

"Tell me you'd fall, again and again, ever deeper in love!"

I laughed to cracked backs, pushing refracted sunbeams slack into my veins, a white hot burning stain

on my conscience.

"You've got an ugly soul."

I murmured, and her downcast eyes burned demure.

"I hate you."

She cried.

And she lied about who I was, cause I didn't care solely on her soul, nor on her body, but rather on

both, a stretch gaudy and too fucking bold. Sins soak crimson, and I betrayed my lust, her bust as

poison. Rusty dick became my shtick, a dislike for quick picks, seeking body AND soul. Not the sharpest

tool in the shed myself.

"You motherfuckers never told me how cold it could get in winter!"

But I fold; sold myself on full house and all in, Bob Saget never saw it coming. I'm drumming to my own

beat, bring heat but,

"Fuck I need some vocals."

Description
Ike; like biting on lite brite tick tack toe fights, to gain the right to far-sight, bringing the night back to

day, frayed ways to say how you really feel; rocking back on your heels to steal and etch a sketch

kiss, pure bliss in sound bytes, like kiting mobs through Detroit, that circuitry bite.

"Tell me I'm beautiful, that my rolls are Royce, my fat pockets are choice! Fat chance!"

Pixel me blue, through seersooth Bluetooth recruits. Nameless suits compromising dignity. Black metal

sand helps me crystallize shapes these days.

"Call me beautiful!"

She begged.

"Tell me you'd fall, again and again, ever deeper in love!"

I laughed to cracked backs, pushing refracted sunbeams slack into my veins, a white hot burning stain

on my conscience.

"You've got an ugly soul."

I murmured, and her downcast eyes burned demure.

"I hate you."

She cried.

And she lied about who I was, cause I didn't care solely on her soul, nor on her body, but rather on

both, a stretch gaudy and too fucking bold. Sins soak crimson, and I betrayed my lust, her bust as

poison. Rusty dick became my shtick, a dislike for quick picks, seeking body AND soul. Not the sharpest

tool in the shed myself.

"You motherfuckers never told me how cold it could get in winter!"

But I fold; sold myself on full house and all in, Bob Saget never saw it coming. I'm drumming to my own

beat, bring heat but,

"Fuck I need some vocals."