Robin Gunningham

Sneaky drag smells, where backgrounds are mythic pulls of hist'ry's fog believed,

To be blowin' balc' clouds, buildin' ash mounds, how the stress has got to me

Not a single hand found during any crash out, I just persisted onwardly

And I've collapsed down on every last round, 'til my fists could hardly breathe;

But lunged my lungs, and made my voice get hoarser,

When I snuck a punch—witness a hoisted shoulder quickly summon blood like a foisted mortar,

At the corrupted scum that it's pointed towards, they can suck my nuts but I know I'm older, not a younger pup, they get moist pre-growth-spurts

And these ugly cucks're why we pinch coins and quarters? Guess it's kinda funny once you can't avoid the o-bsurds,

I ain't outta touch it sucks watching shit boil over into a bunch of uncertainty and growing con-cern,

In all what they're up to 'yond the ploy of ownership playin' sucker to husked men in a koi persona,

Just to run our pumps, but we got well-oiled motors

And how many of our shovels dug all the soiled mourners,

Wonder why we succumb distrust for a paranoia that'd coerce,

Decoys and cloners; do you guys have any idea how much gettin' thunderstruck on my foiled dome hurts?...

And in if we can be up to snuff on ongoing norms worsenin' our struggles stuck inside a coil, moreover

Until then I'm just like whatever is going on sure isn’t in my control huh, so I guess I'll enjoy this order...

Of my nutty lunch of bok choy and hors d'oeuvres with a buttered bun and LaCroix, (coastered)...

And like when you cut a stump as a closeness warner—I'm gonna get back, to when I lept hacks;

When I lunged my lungs and made my voice get hoarser, think my gut reflux hates Almond Joys in tartar,

Sorry these gummies done a number on me like I'm going over, the double-mustards like a poignant roadster

Uhh, fuck was I saying? I fuckin'.. Uhh, I'll fuckin' uppercut Trump's most loyal soldiers,

Watch 'em end stomach up as some joist explorers, to spot atop the puppets strung to destroy what's Kosher

Bet I'd get a buzz on Rumble or mentioned in Reuters' homework,

Journalists wordin' stern blurbs of how observers heard a ruptured crunch to Nazi sphenoids in horror,

That's for stuntin' tongues and exploitin' poker, that's for guttin' us so thin our employment won't work

For not havin' a mug a mother loved to havin' that boy look forward, to unbunchin' those undies by destroyin' the whole world,

Brazenly shut us up by gargoylin' our Jokers, god damn

Nothing will save your name pussy