The thing is, is is
I’m one of those people And kind of like
You know what I mean? So yeah
You get where I’m coming from? I mean
To me To me
A hundred percent
Expressions barely sketches
Barely strokes of meaning, seeming
Something I’m not gonna lie
Obviously At the end of the day
I know where I am Right now
Right like I am and I’m not
(Like) literally Absolutely
A hundred per (like)
They spatter, warding
Off the silence, off the absence
Of Oh my god
You know what? I’m not gonna lie
At the end of the (like) I know where I am
That’s where my head’s at Obviously
It’s (like) really (like) naturally We just clicked
At the end of the (like)
Language, where the buckshot noises
And misfiring mouthfuls of fuck all
Explain I can’t complain
And that You know what I
Yeah yeah yeah Kind of like
I feel like How does it feel?
The way I see it right If I’m being (like) completely
Honest
The foam of language, flood-from, rich scum high inland
The stretch of sand and lugworms in between
And the shrinking smirking bloom on flatfar sands, thin
Corruption, like the lackthick rainbow blushes
Behind film lids in the peopled, peopled aisle
Of fresh meat.