I can't seem to get a grip, I'm barely hanging on, I'm struggling to exist. I don't know why it is my tendency to slip where nothings making sense.

Disconnected thread of logic plucked out your consistency. Constituents of the misshapen shit that's living underneath. Split the sink and cold concrete. Spits they sprinkle into me. Split ends of electric wire submerged in water zapping me. Firecracker in my brain flickering and splattering. I'm cowering and shivering. Frantically i'm panicking. Hi hats splash and drip to me, spraying at me vividly, passing at me missing me, blasé, it don't mean shit to me.

I can't seem to get a grip, I'm barely hanging on, I'm struggling to exist. I don't know why it is my tendency to slip where nothings making sense.

and it's instantly clicking the switch initiating shit to be casually activating mass degrees of casualties. Blasting at your faculty, knocking off your majesty, attacking all the families that ain't get used to tragedy. Reaction-plant plasma-leak. Understand I have to be breathing it inside of me and feeling it entirely. No hazmat in toxicity, embracing it sink into me. Feel it underneath my skin, become what I am living in.

I can't seem to get a grip, I'm barely hanging on, I'm struggling to exist. I don't know why it is my tendency to slip where nothings making sense.

Blend into the background, fade away, won't leave a trace. Gone into the crowd now i'm just another face. Forget about it, wipe away anything you saw today. Show you what the truth is then delete it from your memory. Forget about it, wipe away anything you saw today. Show you what the truth is then delete it from your memoryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

Overcomplicated frigid math equation. Specific logarithmic expressions of what the fuck i'm saying. Representations of the digits in it's rightful place,
contained in microchips with infinite amounts of tiny space. Load the thick appendixes of terabytes inside the brain. List the archive's information's endless annotations made. They might need to be refrained, if there ever comes a day. Filled with indiscretion at the overwhelming length of weight
carried in digressions down a page of indigestibly complex passages inside a textbook's fifth edition based upon a recollection of a never ending dream that we made up deep inside of the bowels of machines, where I wasn't even there. Not there, not happening. Don't ask what that means 'cause it only goes more deep. Don't ask what that means 'cause it only goes more deep.

I can't seem to get a grip, I'm barely hanging on, I'm struggling to exist. I don't know why it is my tendency to slip where nothings making sense.