U can call me a joker,
A fent abused smoker.
But I got a good excuse,
This world's a game of poker.
I want to get back home,
Coz this world ain't my zone.
U can all call me mad,
But ur all NPC drones.
My world got blown up,
A nuclear war was thrown.
My body woke in a chair,
Sick, ill, this Sim is known.
I need to get out of here,
Back to the world I cheer.
I know ur all not real,
Want to make that clear.
Half u NPCs don't hv names,
I'm playing PlayStation games.
Stuck as the only RPC,
No offence this Sim is lame.
My Sim is a waste land,
NATO nuke war all planned.
But Russian hypersonics won,
N we all turned into sand.
So pls get me back home,
No more Ukrainian drones.
Need some DMT to see reality
To tell me what is known.
Stuck in a Sim that ain't mine,
U NPCs walk round just fine,
But I know this ain't reality,
I'm stuck with a bent out mind.
Need some help to get back,
Pls help me I'm on a sick rack,
My body ain't even my own,
Go on joke, n think I'm wack.
© 2024 - All Rights Reserved - Robert Reid
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