watch the clock for the coffee pot ten minutes late, now I’m free to spot the cashier with the cat-eye cut, pupils ricochet like a mouse in the duct he asked if I wanted “dreamer disks” while he rang up wraps, cough drops, incense sticks knew the blunt tubes, the lotto slips, the little glass spoons the Black & Milds by the gum wall, the lighters in the moons the whole backroom smell, burnt sugar and old mint like he could clock my brain by the static in it knew the sloppy joes and bad hoes, the whole military diorama the way I fuckin' hit my baby momma not dealin' with that drama I don't fuckin' care 'bout no trauma I'm just tryna kick it watchin' Futurama wit my tommy bahamas on tryna not spill marinara on em i been caring on the interwebs fuckin like to have a good image but i been beefin w the spider webs in my fuckin head, too many roaches feelin like im fuckin dead dead to the world, dead to myself dead to rights right now im not myself self worth dipped hit the bottom and it handed me a shovel casket chipped now I have some real reasons to swallow men in black suits now they follow follow me to observe and perturb i can hear em in the reverb i can hear em in the reverb i can hear em in the reverb i can hear em in the reverb can you hear em in the reverb can you hear em in the reverb can you hear em in the reverb can you hear em in the reverb
