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Cellphone Soul

I hate cellphones so
Since when did I start writing on mine?
I don't even hit the buttons,
Half the time.
I can't use more than two fingers,
To alternate between,
Instead of all ten by machine.
It's ineffective.
The screen's small unprojected.
Yes this is what I call: a defective.
In my cell I have it all, I can even call a detective,
But all is subjective.
And everybody's glued to their screen like it's a calling!
I didn't hear even a scream when did we fall in?
This pit of Internet shit.
Its so deep you don't even see the ridge, the rift, the cliff's rise like the points on a high-scoring drift,
Cold world, like a fridge.
F pity.
Life's a bitch with a tough titty,
But better tough than roughed up in a jiffy.
No use in sitting and wasting your time,
Unless you enjoy chilling - killing time with no ambition.
For me no such ideas cone to mind,
I have a million, and wouldn't want to be without them,
As overwhelming as ever, forgive me if I doubt them,
I grew up in a family where you'd be damned to be without them.
I speak the truth: but it's a droplet of water in a fountain,
A crack in the cancerous core of a cracked mountain!
Without end: there would be no beginning,
Is it square, is it a circle: are we still or are we spinning?
All I know, is what they tell us whole. Cellphone your soul.

Left Day Vice

The words know me by know
So only when my flow is sound -
They come around, know when the show
Might go down.
I'm only homely when my flow is out of town then I get out of bounds then I
Spin around like a thousand frowns!

They're all a mouthful, all these words I fuel,
Try to be cool but i might lose my cooling.
Stand by the seaside when I'm refueling,
I know I-m just a tool in life...
Better make the best days twice.

Please Stop

Coffee in my blood till I'm coughing up blood,
Caught up in this flood like a cough drop in the mud.
Cop cop! Save me now wave me save me not!
It's bad for you, I don't want to... take another shot
Please stop.

Flera Gånger, Flera Gånger

Jag har gjort bort mig...
Flera gånger, flera gånger.
Det är därför jag gör,
Mera sånger.
För att förånga,
All min ånger.
Det är allt i det förgångna,
Men ack så långt det varar,
Som sanden i Sahara.
Undrar hur mycket jag kan klara,
Innan jag sjunker ner i skorna.
Sjukt skevt det forna, allt jag gjort
Det tror jag.


Lose the match,
Bleed it out,
I won't fall to death here!
All I am is left here,
Glowing in your death stare,

For Freedom Of Expression...

For freedom of expression, there must be a spirit of tolerance in the population.

Unlike that which there is now... or: has ever been?

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