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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