I don’t dance with the devil, he...

Bitch ass little n****

Can smell his ass from a mile away now

Lucifer, belzebub, our endless brilliance, our mental illness, our judgement sickness, my rentals of pinups, if only for a masssage…I’m a mirage in wolves clothing and I’m eloping the snare and the bass to put hair on your face and I’m declaring today my victory day against he who’s name I dare not say let’s scare the bots away

boys and girls

either that or

I will poison squirrels

And then write in my journal

 

I don’t dance with the devil,

he dances with ME.

And I don’t deserve a medal

Just a couple G’s

I’ve got high friends

In low places

Hell is hot as

4 aces

 

I hope these words unlock something

Otherwise vacant in you

The shaken you

The godforsaken you

That’s making you

Feel like glue upcreek

In shits kanoo

While god spits at you

Cause your odd

Shits on you caus your god too

We all are, remember?

How many Hepburn’s do I have to dismember