Subtility in chains
I pulled the chains up of my sliding jeans,
oh what the hell man! bong's so good damn.
i rose up from my seat that is so woody and thin,
the journey is never complete although you have been clean.
Its about a heist though, stealing drugs from the brain.
A boy in early twenties, loaded gun under pants.
Its about popping hopping skidding through the railway,
Its just a feel i dont get when i'm too home away.
Its about the puffing coughing tripping labour feeling pain,
Its about feeling good when you break her approving hymen.
Dont be shit when i am looking at you in depth,
dont be mean when i am seeing so much of your shallowness.
Buy some books, just be alone and read it in your den.
Take your time so that you stop bitching talking your lives away.