
Shaking and drenched wet, glass tool nearly breaking from tension
Pacing these ten steps, circling with hate in ascension
Making attempts in stabbing the shank in his tendons
Scrapin the henchmen as pool cues are raised with agression
Strikes are exchanged and weapons clash as attacks slide within range
Mike is then phased when sticks snap over the side of his brain
Psyched by no pain he tumbles over the bar, sighing each smack
while he reacts by slicing a fellow with the knife that he grabs
Grinding teeth crack as a kick sends him into the emergency exit
He's surely dependant on running, but these persons fiend merit

He falls and sees Eric still approaching him with passionate hatred/
spectators sat in amazement as a drug dealer battered his favorite/
thick blood splattered the pavement, it was enough to make you sick/
as his face was hit, Mike's blood gushed and he felt tough takin risks
he slashed but his shank had missed, so he ran to the back of the alley/
Eric chased him, wondering why suddenly.. this faggot was smiling/
Mike grabbed at it mildly, slowly aimed, and threw the knife at his throat/
Lifeless is hope, as mike decapitates the man in the sight of his scope/
Sloppily daunted, bloodied from his former company's sauces/
Pocketing rocks quick before he ran home white like he's possibly haunted/
and though the body was blindly disposed, Mike got what he wanted.../
Bloody, he's taunted, so he runs to get cleaned in his mahogany faucet
Doors slam and get locked, awaking the house with horrible head shock
snortin his wet rock while family knocks and yells, more than regret's stocked
He calms the fam, wired as hell, "your all tired and swell" Here comes the scam
"Speed off my man, and hun, I'll be in bed after I read on the can"
Soon as they slept, he'd get out his cokespoon and play wrecked
doomed in ways, yet, careless and rich he'd continue in his gloomy basement
Killing gay songs, building ••••e racks, cleaning and itching for rock
Shrilling dissolved, the night ended and the morning found him stiff as a log
Every sweet has its sour; every evil its good.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
"Michael was prudent and great, rich beyond his affluent estate/
His legacy muted by fate he must have been brewing irrate/
it wasn't a stupid mistake, he was large beyond the weight scale/
and now he calmly lays pale, because he longed to take rails../
Had we only taken witness, we would pause his bagel business/
pay millions to make a wishes, to spare the mile he exchanged with inches/
Lately he was acting su••••ious, but I put it past intuition
I figured he was lacking upliftement, I didnt see him snatched from my vision..."/
Take problems that phase in like wealth that
you have to change for yourself
and contrast to Coke, placebo's mass plateu where you feel to amazing for help
Apply to his case, and though it may feel sweet, it supplies your distaste
To different peeps it might be bittersweet just by examplifying his race