Report Card

To the left, my mind stands waiting to embark
Right, begs reason but stands alone in the dark
Struck hard, like stone tempting its skin to spark
Come superman, from a mild mannered average Clark

The fates have you, like a bullet in a vacuum
Resume your reason to avoid being consumed

My minds faded, so shut up and face it I'm left jaded,
focused and waiting, frustrated strained from the distance between reason,
but if I aced it like a test, I'd say wasted, talent doesn't display this
Daily, explained mainly for outdated monotony
A contrived, concentrated duration of intimidation is waiting
behind closed doors, for sure, the score, I'd even then towards
a new discretion, inspect the quest I creaked the wood laden specs
directed, the intention incepted at the last moments of duress
counteract the rest, circumvent the nautilus
octopus takes full artistic license and crushes the vessels neck

The fates have you, like a bullet in a vacuum
Resume your reason to avoid being consumed

I've got a bee in my pocket, careful not to knock it
I play roulette with the press, of the key, troublesome deep compress
maintained annually, bringing stinging to my skin,
bruise rises from within, in
and upon it, I commence a sonnet of shades of the moon
with the bee, careful not to swoon, and play silhouette to my skin
again praying from within, my black and blue conjures mortal sin
as the fates have you, bullet in a vacuum
resume your reason, to explode deep in your sternum
perpetuate backwards down your throat and bloat
swell and curtail, swallow, then lessen the blow
from these lessons you know, eyes are bulging out the socket
I got a bee in my pocket send me off in a rocket

The fates have you, like a bullet in a vacuum
Resume your reason to avoid being consumed

I've got a C in my pocket, shock socked and block it,
shoot the moon, shipped the back room, careful not to shoot to soon
resume your treatise, cold space where heat is...void
annoyed by the lack of your raspy voice,
infiltrate my choice to intercept your reason, for reasons un-seaming
keep you believing, grasping for the ceiling,
gasping for breath and reeling, in this pit of stomach feeling,
but don't cheapen the meaning,
how you keep your bee's in
stationary space station, puff smoke and I turn to creepin
but refrain from the moment of zen, crept pen, ink to paper
edge to ledge, push pencil to grade her, maintain her,
like this report card in my pocket, my fates determined for sure
I've got a C in my pocket, light up this rocket
fly to the moon, tighten the screw with this mental socket
but don't knock it, crock pot boil, bringing this product to market
mainstream appeal, C's in my pocket for real, lock stock and drop it.


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