Now I look for air pockets to pick, walk with a stick, start picking locks with it Opening up heart-shaped lockets with little arguments Tawdry trinkets start to split and contradict Those who say one thing but think the opposite I bit the dust tongue kissing documents in a smoke stack Faith is harder to swallow than pride turning our throats black I want my home back; I know thats not an available option Its the way that Im walking in between a cradle and coffin That makes me pace myself; if half the battle is done right The other half wont take my health while jacking my shadows sunlight To crack it open and find the space between my breaths are desolate Life is just a lie with an f in it and death is definite But after I scratched the surface I never saw the calm before the storm act so nervous When a boy writes off the world its done with sloppy misspelled words if A girl writes off the world its done in cursive…. Im searching for her, can you hear me Love? -Sage Francis
Posted on: Tue, 30 Dec 2014 01:25:44 +0000