I’m a grown man wishing for the facts in the fiction,
Never been sealed for approval but still claps for attention,
As a practice magician I still ask for the digits and then act on a whim cause that ass is delecious.
Please spare a moment just to chat for a minute
You’ll be happy to see that I’m relaxed and efficient
Wearing fake glasses just to see through the fog and punch a beaver in the tail till it’s chews on a log
Music is the magic that propels us to go farther,
But fuck radio pop bullshit bubble gum and starburst,
And I harbor harsh feelings for the kingdom and to Arthur
Cause magics fake but id rather go to hogwarts than to Harvard,
I wouldn't trust Carmel to hang off my arm when I'm armed and show my arms are double strength strong charmin
And part of my charm Is You think that I’m harmless
But karma is a bitch so prepare all your armaments,
I'm not a rapper I'm a wordsmith, watch my ideas eclipse me,
Chasing after as the birds lift, slipping gently with the slipstream,
Future me runs past you presenting,
Unrelenting tension in the form of fruit suspended in a fig tree,
unequivocally the snake slithers through the pristine
Ideals of a man and a god who isn’t listening
Never been sealed for approval but still claps for attention,
As a practice magician I still ask for the digits and then act on a whim cause that ass is delecious.
Please spare a moment just to chat for a minute
You’ll be happy to see that I’m relaxed and efficient
Wearing fake glasses just to see through the fog and punch a beaver in the tail till it’s chews on a log
Music is the magic that propels us to go farther,
But fuck radio pop bullshit bubble gum and starburst,
And I harbor harsh feelings for the kingdom and to Arthur
Cause magics fake but id rather go to hogwarts than to Harvard,
I wouldn't trust Carmel to hang off my arm when I'm armed and show my arms are double strength strong charmin
And part of my charm Is You think that I’m harmless
But karma is a bitch so prepare all your armaments,
I'm not a rapper I'm a wordsmith, watch my ideas eclipse me,
Chasing after as the birds lift, slipping gently with the slipstream,
Future me runs past you presenting,
Unrelenting tension in the form of fruit suspended in a fig tree,
unequivocally the snake slithers through the pristine
Ideals of a man and a god who isn’t listening
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