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Funk Bros, Contemplate

Right out of bed to write out my head, it's alright,
I can writhe in linen shrines when I'm dead, rewinding,
Looking back at the times till time ends and my dread
Is seeing only all those times when I've fled,
Tormented. I have this beautiful car but cant help but dent it.
Self masochism envisioned Bentley.
I regret. I don't forget - I'm retentive,
Creative native I say, maybe relative: an uncle.
But what the fricking funk yall. B.


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