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letra de head hands feet over the railing (prod.fantasy camp) - afterlife dispatch

hanging my head
hands and feet over the bridge
with vehicles passing by
depressed with c ptsd attached to the current thought train
i’m looking past the fact
(that)blurring vision keep’s getting to me
got angst as i look down
at the river rushing
not a noun or name called
everytime i tried to ask for help
they said “grab a flask”or “you’ve become soft”
i started drinking to numb this h-ll
i fell beyond healing
i believe within
my personal state of thinking

i run
they claim to the context behind everything
apparently they can read like telekinesis

i write music to cope
need a few feet of rope
or two hit’s of dope (as in smoke not hard stuff)
don’t be saying “your scaring me”
i suppose me walking,screaming to
some suppose if higher power
even though i’m agnostic (i’m still spiritual but also a skeptic and always open minded) (it) might bring me back
(the)residue from from the few downer’s (is dripping down the faucet)
it keep’s shifting within my vision
ounce of louder will keep me sane for an hour
or a couple week’s (and) f-cking thief energy (has) got me sad
i’m attacked
i ask for peace
24/7
waiting for a voice
not a thing is passed (and) where is your letter?
now my voice is
m-ffled like a suppressor
but i’m a gun and
deep down you never let me speak
no matter what i have to retreat
(meaning)wave the flag
and surrender
cause if i stay in the room i’ll decay hearing you spewing ignorance
or i’ll raise my voice
cause i’m annoyed (and) i got a temper
(the reason i’m upset”
and it’s due to the fact that your a know it all
so i will walk down the road
(it’s) my choice
on the straight path of this highway
off a flask looking over the railing
rain cloud’s hover
i’m smothered
no bluff or lie
slung out of my mouth
my lung’s are in doubt
of continuing on from smoking pack’s of cigarettes
marlboro light’s fyi
young 20 i’m meant to be with my ending
storm’s on it’s way
any minute
it could be hailing
it is internally inside for me
cause in your eye’s
i’m always failing
not conforming when i know my moral compass
my head’s hanging over (and) you know i might plummet
some thing’s are wrong
got reasonable doubt like j hova
and you know that things are plural
starring at my demise
it’s a hopeless plea
impaired and (this) divided crisis
can’t you see within my iris?
i
need to be deceased
am i right?
i’m begging you please
shake me or slam my head
into this dashboard since this crash course is what i ask for
because this torture
is more than anything that anyone could bear (meaning no one could handle this type of arguing because the stress just like i can’t handle it due to their cognitive dissonance about being in the wrong)
that’s why i’m hanging my head hands and feet over the bridge
with vehicle’s passing by depressed with ptsd
attached to the current thought train
got poetic justice
not kendrick (kendrick shout out reference and i love kendrick lamar”s music too)
even though he’s a g.o.a.t
with each timid lyric i put on the track
go ahead and squish my heart
leave me deceased as i depart and leave
not a tear heard when it touches the dead cold floor
no bends or folds still
i’m not intact in war
no drill
learned my lesson
river rushing
i’m depressed and drowning
swept in the current state of pain

rain finally fall’s
i’m all alone
death not postponed
young 20
(is) meant to be murdered with his own hand
love my fam
drugs in hand

as they say if time is like money
then f-ck this currency
and current time

- afterlife dispatch

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