The Dream

The heads hang high when the bass kicks low
The feds want a bite, but the brass says no
Locked and loaded hot and bloated stop the motion
Soft and supple ride or die already hostile
Taking all the land, shitting out some sustenance
Baking in my hand, is the spinning source of nothingness
Wandering through the sand looking for my magnum opus
Slowly coming to the conclusion that it’s hopeless
Shout out to all the homeless!
Living the dream while the rest of us rush to close and open
I’m in the wind like a clothespin
Closed fist HODL tight during the storm and weather the broke trends
The riches were stolen, thief on the gallows
Arrow pierces rope, escape by way of the shallows
Shadow puppets ghost writing for the masses
Most writing for the classes, in this classless disaster
It’s the subtle taste of sulfur, cuddles taking over
Head meets the floor to establish something covert
Hand meets the face to expand on feeling sober
Brain meets the feast when we plan on stealing your turn
Trained in great defeat and a little understanding
Majored in emotional underhanded grandstanding
On the prowl on the road again on demand
With nothing but these two empty hands
Who’s got the money bags not me said the scummy rags
Dressed to brainwash head to toe in some funny ads
Alright then who’s got the bag lunch?
I got a bad hunch, whatever’s inside is all stagnant
Who’s up for something brash? Not me said the bloody rash
I’m on my way home to soak bones, what a fucking drag
Shadow puppets ghost writing for the masses
Most writing for the classes, in this classless disaster