Machinescape

Run, run, run, run, run from the golden sun

Times are black and mild like the ash all up on my blunt

Overripened, I'm forgotten, smoke in the air, I dissipate

Speaking to a greater force, like take me, all up off this Earth

When I turned 17, ego deathin', my rebirth

I meditate, might medicate, foreshadowing my fuckin death hoe

Like shattered glass all to my throat, writing my own name in the Death Note

Is there a way, that I can cope, still fuckin numb all the trauma from dope

Its namaste till my dying day, in Nirvana like Kurt Cobain

Still fantasize about a shotty, pointed to my fuckin face