Hey I’m real sorry to have to be here
Laid out on the table
Another on top
'autop' to see how sweet skill spilled
to fable
Another splayed fear
Covered in toe tags disguised as labels
Riddle off the COD follow me
Do re fa so la
Cause of death seems to be
a dose of purpose cut with that uncertain…
Tiiiiiiiii
Found it wrapped twice for delayed release
A note in the pocket of the groove
Ran out of rhythm
Must have forgotten to stop breathing too
Never matter, don’t waste the meat
Put him on the spit
Put him ON to spit
And don’t trip the taste as the feat turns blue
Hook missing might call it incomplete
But to Doom a cut chorus keeps the melody discrete
Should have listened
To sweet nothings sang in the kitchen
Morning toast to a name left forgotten by its owner
Now it’s hard dried jerky’s all he got left on him
Take him home soon, but not before the auction
The marrow’s what the audience consumes
See the soft hands?
The crinkle by the eyeses?
Notice how the heart has swelled up two sizes?
Hear the crowd mourning as the new sun rises?
This young man’ll fetch tree-tall prices
Not for muscle, not for land or titles
Not for the toxins we can lift from both eyelids
No
As sure as a glass breaks stone
All the boy has are his love baked bones