E Is An M.C . (to Round This Off, Just Tell ‘em I’m a Square)  

Don’t know what to spend my time on

Don’t know what to spend my money on

Spit in spirits

With the I.R.S. left

Pore me

Pore me

The devil’s collar needs adjusting

Slender glass shards under palms

Like see-thru splinters

Wood you

Wood you

I’m younger now I’ve let go

Realise it’s a diary not musique

Glad I joined a class

That teaches creep-fuckery

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