VERSE 1 (Myles Bullen)
I like to walk as slowly as possible
eat pomegranates with a spoon
see dying everyday as optional
What am I living to do?
I’m a needy ghost
I need a decent dose
Being seen exposed
Peep the recent post 
Another awkward pose 
Indeed feed the folks
I took the Concord coach 
So i could see the show
Eye on the mountain 
That I’m climbing 
Eye on the ocean
The tides rising
Till im 86’d….
I am fine dining
hand speaking 
I’m signing 
I will die rhyming

VERSE 2 (ToadStool)
Tryna find a way to find way out,
Rhymin since the days I was
playground bound, I’m raised now,
Not too concerned with ya two cents,
Fuchsia swirls on the Stool’s blend,
suture nerves till my cruel end 
The way I move pens like…
spilt milk,
Buried alive,
snakes in the line of sight like Kill Bill,
Fury entwined,
further the rhyme with that ill will,
Surgical lines for purging they spines,
emerging with a purpose to find,
searching for words to lurch
in shadows when the earth will decline,
certainly further demise, 
but it’s murky in the works of my mind,
it murders me to think this certain search
of person defines
my own purpose to climb 
Straight up outta the hole…
been about in the fold,
Ya clout is worth the same amount
as those mountains of coal,
I feel the weight of the world
acting like Atlas’s clone,
Back bone snapping tryna
capture the hope
let it go 


CHORUS (ToadStool/Lewis M.):
…and we ain’t never seen the same sights,
Hoping for a copasetic moment on the this late night,
Right…
Wander heaven with my eyes closed,
tryna see it inside of myself,
and break the spiral
…and we ain’t never seen the same sights,
Focus on the motive approaching to such a great height,
Right…
Wander heaven with my eyes closed,
tryna see it inside of myself,
and break the spiral

VERSE 3 (Lewis M.)
Parabellum when I spit,
letters written while at war.
Keep my focus on the art,
let the robots keep the score.
Nothing changed but the weight.
Rusty boxcutter raps.
Got the Snopes on the ready.
Niggas never utter facts.
Alarm set for 6.
Don’t wake until it’s 10. 
Early bird gets the warm.
Late bloomers get the win.
I don't give a flying fuck
bout what the radio airs.
I only make the shit
that I wanna hear.
Real G's move in silence,
prolly 'xplains why 
there ain’t shit
about me quiet.
Yeah... There no denying
that I am pariah in
some circles. I'm fine with that.
They talk shit behind my back,
and then claim they bump my tracks
when its face to face.
Used to beg for validation.
Nigga bought an MPC
for the clout, and now it’s waiting
in the closet while collecting dust.
I promise,
it takes all of my arm strength
not to deck niggas
calling my music “content”.
Fuck the nonsense.

VERSE 4 (Lewis M.)
Y'all bitter
Corrupt rhyme spitters
with a clutched nine milli
stashed behind smiles given
in the aisles I’m sitting
at the rap shows.
Half the reason why
I’m always posted in the back rows.
It’s facts tho,
I come off as an asshole.
I don’t buy your vibes.
You're suspicious.
I don't connect to the diatribes
you're shitting out that exit wound
you call a mouth.
I see it crystal clear, dude.
I ain’t buddy-buddy with
y’all niggas, and that scares you.
Now you're fearful,
eyes darting back & forth
like the cops are at ya door
with their body cams off.
You're tryna beg and reason...
Cuz, when I get the mic next
you know a mausoleum
is the property you're leasing.
Oh, speaking of "squalor"
Got the blogs politicking...
Cuz, the business up here
is based on who's cock your licking.
And, as far I'm concerned,
it's crystal clear that it's not their's.
My gas tank says
that I got years
before I'm hitting E, nigga.