So another hand decided to weave the stars,
I burn in acid, 'cause I need the fuel to go to war.
So another hand decided to speak the truth,
But then again, your words does not bear my fruit.
It's not my fault the lines gone long and loud,
I know you have a serious problem, and I really hope you don't freak out.
I do love love but I think I need cosmic touch,
The stars don't twinkle at those who ain't that much.
The letters that I see are brilliant and of light,
I should make the line longer on all those sites.
Oversaturation is what you see under the rays,
Don't you think that's the weed you puff, on an average day?
I guess I'll let go and just walk down my stage,
I just half-baked lines, you wake and bake.
Scream and freak out all you want on the mic—
Your attitude is something that I firmly dislike.
I miss when you talked about your poetry,
But now you've gone mental over my homily.
I know my wrongs, but I would never ever duck you,
Sorry but all my stellar astute can say is f— you.