[Verse 1: Ben S.]
He bled poems, told his girl to not come home. He's alone with a phone and he ain't phoning up a plan instead he's standing his land, crammin his ma**es, trynna find the right lash to make him understand rational decisions... Choices moved in an instant... Boiled to the point where they seem, no longer existant, and yet he still grips it, with anger in his eyes, he's sick of all the lies and he is trynna find a rise of a sun, trynna see how the next day won, he can't realize, that's the next day spun, he found bread crumbs, adjacent to a sidewalk now his sides are feeling minor and he's dying from the liars, he's on fire from the wires which had wrapped around his house. He noticed different things but he ain't neva shout em out