...my pen has slowed
almost to a creep
the sins of old
have come to a peak
and runneth over
forth into my now
see bulls still sh*t
and i have a cow
as i press ink
as if it were gas
i crack my mold
and my mask
i stand hollow
space is my fill
for it moves me
when space is still
i reach out
magnet to field
broken down
anxious to build
broken spirits
and broken seals
i bought this cow
and bulls sh*t still
my phrases catch wind
my breath starts to flow
i race for the words
to express how i grow
approaching full gate
i can seemingly coast
no effort at all
In what i just wrote
faster than light
unable to be seen
until reflected
you cant see the beam
warping my drive
and id say i cant quit
but this cow is still here
and bulls still sh*t...