Losing toes to frostbite in southern summer heat
We're cliche, wealthy poets, so what the fuck are we?
These alphas not so subtly want to go back to the teat
I just roll over and show my soft belly meat

I've got time so trace the paths from my nerve endings
Where the fuck does this shit go? I've been pretending
Some of them are never ending
Most bring up memories that we've been forcibly forgetting
This halfway home between luxury and a co-op
Geometric shape on a complex takes the edge off
Scoff at a commie block, then build another suburb
And that's a dream I dream of seeing burn
Get some some fairy lights up on my mauseoleum
Cobwebs, cold water and peeling linoleum
It's got character, man, I should be thanking them
We’re housing wounded animals; bring me the sodium
Booked an hour in my community garden
Lost to clerical era, so fuck it, get robbing
Take anything not tied down
Rip rods and creeper guides up from the ground
I want a feed, I want to be something with meaning
All I keep hearing, “What can you do for me?”
Well actually, I came up with some pretty good options
"That was rhetorical, dude", as they sink their teeth in

I’m in the bag like
I’m in the bag like
Filling the glass like


Lemonade
Serenades and the sundresses
Smoke kisses
Rose plumes
Rub resin
Rum sippin
Pour a few
Thorns thicken
Pause listen
For a view of souls strickened

Summer scene
Sweat glistens
Burning trees
Green twisting
Crumb the weed
Being lifted
Session

Learn to see and being free a given
Blessing
Pushing p a mean you feed the spirit
Lesson

Sweat and try to sleep
Some'll see the peace
Seen it in your dreams
Seasonal but needed it
For relief
Southern Summer heat
Simmer simmer please
Cellophane and weed
Fighting fate
And tryna find ya feet
High


My phone blowing like
Fiends rushing back the pipe
These night of heat
I paint the town
Brush black and white
Your appetite
Large
The Afterlife
Far
I'm lapping up the laughter
Lapping cats that played
the fraud

It’s that southern summer heat
It’s that southern summer heat

I'm a young dude, old time traveller, mashing buttons blind
I grew up anywhere but here, any time but now, with any feelings but mine
I flop backwards no spine
Accidentally successful, no grind

Hop on a hot mic and I tell some old lies
I’ve got some anecdotes from my tiny life
Pops brought his hand down, I think only one time
But I hear his voice in every bottle of red wine
But I’ve written about that; I lose myself in all that
Third house warming this week, always the same cats
We keep finding doors we can lock but not call ours
It’s ok; you make a good wage by the hour
If you measure in how many tinnies, it lets me sink
Or that we definitely have way too much time to fucking think
Hanging out with stereotypes that we keep proving
Praying meaning and money wasn’t so elusive
I love my polished little community of selves
Couple of dirt bags would be nice just to give them hell
I’m cutting ties with friends who fight fake enemies
With ignorant bliss like this, what else do I need?