So many words. Not enough paper in this world. Don't hurt the trees over me.

Your Soul

I know at times it gets harder just to breathe. Head above water. Lungs full of poison.

Heart beat pounding out your chest in avoidance of the drugs and diseases.

One trick that’s leaving means that one that’s been drinking, with some fun he’ll be creeping, with a girl who sees funds as a reason.

Money gets heavier to handle in the black bag that you carry, with your knife and soul for the evening.

When the nights getting cold, all the cash gets hard and regardless of the heater on you can’t stop freezing.

Giving up your soul for a green piece of paper. Saying it’s better to let them pay for it than to rape ya.

Knowing damn well that your logic is just twisted, legitimized by the fact you almost got evicted.

So now you just strip, lick, suck, and let them slip in. Curse the same pussy you put blessings on their dicks with.

Keep an eye out for your soul girl. Don’t let the devil have his way with you.

(to be continued…)


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