
A lot of undeserved luck comes out of this moment,
And I don’t nurture the fear, I choke the opponent.
I’m too aggressive, they say, a real big sounder,
But really, I might go mute if I go a little louder.
Out of Seattle the mountain lions are sound asleep.
In this short sleeve weather I’m singing to “Creep”.
The orange skyline spilling wet honey on my nose.
Being myself is still the most dangerous dose.
The boots sink into the dusty ground, creating smoke,
Contemplating this weird existence, sipping coke,
Riding the blackest ideas out, smoking them like velvet…
You know?
Once the blade falls down, I won’t wear a helmet.
-JW