Consequences of my choices makes me feel stupid.
No time for romance , I'm not cupid.
Tatted out my shirt, that's just body art.
So much weighing me down, I need a cart.
Back again entering that revolving door.
I have frogs legs so I feel like a whore.
People will stab you with the same hand that embrace you.
People will sell you pure drugs knowing it was laced too.
I'm tired of always looking over my shoulders.
The good deeds I performed haven't given me closure.
As soon as I think the struggle is over.
I keep telling myself everything will be kosher.
Continuously falling into the dungeon of hardship.
Shrooms in my system taking me on a everlasting trip.
I can't find peace in a hopeless bundle.
Mercy I will never find, I always fumble.
Tragic events left me emotionally crumbled.
If I make it to the top, I will still remain humble.
Jumping out of a plane with no parachute.
Desperately struggling to not eat from the forbidden fruit.
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