Everyone thinks I'm just a junkee,
But my fix is life, and realitee.
I'v hd more pins than a 2nd hand dartboard,
But got thick skin, n veins like cardboard.
You look at me and just see flee,
But raise ur hand n we can just be.
Runaways, from this manipulative system,
A dried up society, lacking wisdom.
We can be free, birds of a feather,
Flying high, lords of the weather.
Hold my hand n let's kick that can,
The landlord loans, n tick from the man.
We ain't got much,
But a little is a touch,
Rub those hands n a spark is born,
Spike your like, n pull out that thorn.
So dont look at me, wiv velocity,
I got more 2 my pours, than ur hostility.
So don't drink that fake bate,
Or ever tink it's 2 late.
Heaven can wait,
it's on renters rebate
Gods inside us anyway,
There no need to die 2 say hey.
But as no1s ever seen my tru pain,
This is where I begin again.
@ 2026 - All Rights Reserved - Robert Reid
