I am not in the realm of the living
Like a horde of blues moaning Women don't come to my beckon call And everyday seems like the fall. There's is no paradise sands or palm trees Just sand lots and grass filled with goose grease there's no liquor stores on every corner and the food here is shitty So clearly I am not in the city. No cars for me to drive no rides to ride and no playing in the dark. Plenty of goofies and princesses but I'm not in Disneyland's theme park. Where I am is not a happy place it’s where you land when you catch a case Tattooed teardrops on in face dreaming of strip clubs full of lace. internalized damage is what I got imaging the places where I'm not.
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