People and shepherd dogs don’t mix. It’s fine. I see the carcass with the irregular heartbeat and the overflowing cortisol calories. Some people don’t deserve it and won’t feel it like the bulls from the mountains. That’s all they hope. I’ll give every bit of myself with delusional euphoria, too. Show you my day to day if you desire. The show has no curtains. Criticism replaced by action. The next 24 more consistent than the last. It’ll change your fucking life, Molly with the body. I’ll be there. Ill be there on the avenue with hands full of flesh. I’ll be there for the ones that are unknowing. The pain of the light will scar. Let them rise up and be true without the lames tugging at their shirts. Because I was once on the other side. Hating a gameboard that was following me out of my nature. Forget living in a life commandeered by unoriginal sirens. You’ll drop the weight along with me. I’m only just an angel. Saved you from losing your golden hour. Your sandman draped in a nightmare, somehow still serving you dope. You’ll need it to keep throwing up bricks. Keep clinking off the front rim for all the honey badgers at the goodwill. They know how to eat and sleep off the toxins. Church choir honey badgers that won’t let you stop listening to the bass. No topic change. No remorse for your lack of color. Brightening me more has always been a challenge. Get put on a t-shirt by your own mom while backwoods hillbillies laugh on Twitter. Feel that, you shepherd dog. Clint Eastwood behind an iron.