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I tuck my sadness into bed Maybe when I wake up, Things won’t be so bad   Don’t turn back Don’t forgive me  
i’m high-maintenance, baby, i swear it, and this you have to know, and i know that you disagree, because for you this is just how things go. but though i know you don’t care for it, you can’t just ignore all my texts.
My name is Jacob I dont wear make-up I am a man I dont live in a van   I need money For my honey I see fog I need a job   I am special I like to wrestle
I thought I found my strength in a girl singing for acceptance Then I thought I was a caged bird Lame, old and helpless Now I know, I was but a bird’s chick
I was tangled around the spider web you’ve Been weaving throughout your life Messing around always keeping me down But then why did I want more?
A fraternity of lame,bland individuals;awash in a sea of ignorance,stupidity and sycophantic conformity.Uninteresting, immature childrenwith no personality to be seen.Or, is it pretentiousness?
Sometimes the earth dwindles so far into the canyon crevices of my palm. I can't make it out from the rest anymore. And I hope, just hope One day that it grows large enough to suit me. Longing for a place
“Slaw” The Vernacular that so-called “real Niggas” use to define the Lame. The allusion blatantly used, not behind, but in front of their irises,
Addicted to organization  through words, throughout your thoughts  Addicted " to a certain kind of sadness"  within your fears and your doubts  Addicted to the words that bring you up 
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