Sunday, September 4, 2016

Birdie Shit

I ain't got a mojo sense to make, 1, 2, 3, 4, cain't you hear me knocking at your door. It's Saturday morning and I cain't find my home, wait a minute, this is my door, try explaining that to the cop who caught you climbing through the window.

Up all night, is that a rock on the ceiling, where is all this light coming from, what is that thing up in the sky. Who is the president, I don't know, what year is it, I don't care. How did I get here.

Nervous break down, I don't feel nervous or broke, I talked to an alien, he said ko, ko. I put my axe on his head and I screamed ko, ko, ko, or birdie shit, I just bit the rope.




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