Westwind

Mixed Messages

David Huberman

I’m the extension of my memories, the attention of my enemies,

Is caught, but missed thought when they forgettin to remember me,

That’s a misconception of this intention of the entity,

Restlessly, cookin up these recipes to rest in peace,

But half the game passes my frame and fades mentally,

So when prayers fall on deaf ears the problems all get sent to me,

State enters a deep song, fake embers will bleed on,

The lack of a groove just makes this emperor grieve on,

The temperature rise eve on (even) when the dawn dies and eves on,

As stress is heaved on tough to wade through the heathens,

Breathe on, move on, see beyond the few wrongs,

Try to do right, but as I swallow the truth the proof’s gone,

So forgive my sins, just trying to live to my ends,

Before I give in my wins, sending my gifts to the pens,

Pending, my ascension on the seventh, stress evidence,

I’m incensed, my incense burns reverends with reverence

Unless on the level, never’s gets less ever since,

But lesson’s deafen sense in definite amounts cause death is spent,

The cost is crossed somewhere between elegance,

And eloquence, in a rat race can tell foes are elephants,

Hello, hell owes you nothing go see where heaven went,

But in senselessness my sentences, are resentful sentiments.

Top

Hand coded by CRUXimaging