And you’re feeling weird and shit all the time now. Getting high always on a duster-huffin’rag-reefer-cough medicine cocktail. No boozing. You’re too poor. The amount of damage you’re doing to your mind is permanently making you slur your speech. Outcast don’t begin to describe your situation at work. When you talk anywhere now, it’s like your jaw is tapping egg shells to each syllable. Loneliness is an excuse to get high or say something about your life that you’ve no concern about, but it’s frightening to the listener. The only way you orgasm is when your eyes fill with blood and struggle to keep open/you alive. Waking up in the morning consists of nose bleeds and sneezing brains. As you start to recognize the world wasn’t built for you, or your body/ears, the weight of sky crashing down into your eyes compares only to not yours, but “A Public Ranking.” So if your day job provides you with too much *flatline*, Miami Angels in America will melt them brains out ya nose in the mean/tough/aggressive/tense time.
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