I'm Not a New Me, I'm Not A Newbe

I'm Not a New Me, I'm Not A Newbie

So with my third eye in tact, I'd attract the fractals and attack the stacked bills burning a hole in my sheets.
I found it hard to sleep underneath the speaking tongues when we sung of how we long to be where we first begun.
I no I never expressed my distress at how at best I'm just a lonesome charity for those who care to be giving. My hair was always living.
This year I'm living all of my nightmares and moving to the streets where the night stares at me with little to no light pollution.
My institution of one hundred dollar bills, my slaughter kills, my water spills, My daffodils swaying in the breeze of me.
I found it hard to breath so easily until my ability to see the things accurately held the apple tree close, into closer perspective.
I never objected to the wanting of a never-the-same corrected past I schlep and laughed as i lept into the flame and crashed into the infected dissected.

I'm not a new me, I'm still a newbie, I not a movie, I'm still a new breed of humming the tunes to eclipsed moons, in the garden of June, floating on a string of balloons, like a cartoon being attacked by erasers.

I guess i should have told you, I hold you every night in my dreams, i guess i would use gold to compare the brightness of things,
but never again did we say the rent would be paid ed in the fall of day, i think we'd rather get laid then think about the way things could have been.
I'm Trapped In. I'm Backed In the corner, I'm Stacked thin like a mourner of life's survival techniques. I think I'm liable to peek when i hear bible speak.
I've died last week and lived to see the carvings in stone. she cried for me but she was all alone. So granted i am to be appointed this plan, to be a forgiving man, for she gave me my span of understanding.
demanding the cycles to bicycle through, the tires are white walled and the sky isn't blue anymore,
she slams the floor into place, she shuts the door in my face, i float off into space.
i hold my heart to her traced chalk line. hopscotch single malt shoppe time.

I'm not a new me, I'm still a newbie, I not a movie, I'm still a new breed of humming the tunes to eclipsed moons, in the garden of June, floating on a string of balloons, like a cartoon being attacked by erasers.