See it, feel it, hear it...



Smell and taste it are off limit's so don't scratch and sniff it,

yup again... It's shit,

store high in transit, a magic skit billy bob sold and nailed it,

another line of bullshit,

moved quick, our crops are turning to sticks, & stones roll so the moss won't grow... I don't know that one was from the hip,

fired too quick hair-trigger it slipped, damn missed my foot by only fractions of an inch, into the ground pushin' up tulips,

or daises if you're lazy, eazy fertilizer lady maybe nature knows best... Ass to lips give it a lick, sick... I was thinking spit... A line of rhyme air guitar style not give it a kiss,

I was made for lovin' you, sneaky too... Put down your fists...

microbe mist's,

write it down... make up list's,

of things we need to fix...

Everybody has a voice and everyone's in the mix,

organic or manic... You know what makes you sick

To see the shit skip to 00:33

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