i’m going to get the lyrics wrong to your song!

i’m towing to a tit, the hysterics gong wrong!

i’m going to get the lyrics wrong to your song!

i’m sewing to slit, the spherics prong a game of pong!

i’m going to get the lyrics wrong to your song!

their melodic sequence i interrupt, with made up lines which will disrupt!

the mode and energy of words which have taken shape

an invented and edited lined drape:
begging for the new to refresh the morning dew

it’s not going to be the original same (O.G)
but an off & different made up name (SEW.ME.)

when the words don’t come out quite as right
or the midnight starts playing into the day sight
they are trying to bugs bunny our analysis into a cartoon animation

ain’t it funny?! by pixelating our origin source through a 2D HEIGHTENED display with an ambiguous alternation provoking our wires to reactionary sensation.

never mind, the lullabies of symphonic troubling anxieties flooding my mentions!

the edges keeps folding with an eclipsed designation.

explaining throughout the shadowed parallels of haunting locked up cells: whatever the meaning of ‘that’ said conjecture – the texture of this lecture will not be too dense!

in the present tense : the definition of who i am swirls into a deep search. a ladder of struggle and lounged by a peppered scented perch!

or the deep seated stress bubbling by various undermined extensions!

it’s ridiculous!

a list longing an aligned kiss.