Colombian

I hold a reflection of my self up high, a bird, fly by and it cracks my mind, the pieces fall, I used to watch people cut themselves when I used to walk by, they bleed black, I fall asleep into an overdose, ain’t it funny? In order for me to feel high I must push the plunger down, fake high that only slows things down, same friends that didn’t care if I ever lost my shine they

Don’t seem to be found, What a blitz it is to be to be locked in this maze full of lost souls. The anger for lion seems to be froze last in the scheme of their last dose what a blitz the anger in my eyes. Sometimes it reminds me of flames all over it with burn slowly. But it’s all driving me insane if you can’t see it, you must still be in the maze you can’t see Past Hayes.