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letra de octagon - p walsh

[intro]
there’s two sides to every story
eight sides to every person
eight walls
insecurities that keep us boxed in
sometimes we feel like we can’t escape
we’re trapped
these are my eight sides

[verse 1]
i’m locked inside the octagon
about to go out like a mastodon
when my -ss is gone i’m still common in the lexicon
never clasped the bong, but with every song
the pressure’s on to invest in wrongs till my chest is gone
destined for the upper echelon, but resisted by the epsilon
pressing on my temple like professor x
fighting the magneto of this depression test
index is flipping with the middle to form a pistol
if only this fixture of fidgeting fingers could hold a missile
wishful that my fistful doesn’t give into the fiscal
but i’m clean as a whistle like a bottle of paul mitch-ll
they say, “you got some gall in you”
’cause the route i’m moving to is not simple
they try to get all caught up in the pictures paparazzi popping on the carpet
the shots are probably putting all the profit in their pocket
the problem is its private
i’m nauseous ’cause of nonsense
i’m nothing and a novice, so why am i even talking?
never had a grampy and i lost my papa
babci lives in boston and it’s only for a minute when i’m calling
distance the culprit
cut off from my father and my momma
’cause i traded my presence in for the rent on my apartment
now the only time we talk is when i bum a dollar off them

[verse 2]
the thought of it is awful and it’s got me knocking down my columns
i don’t believe in karma, i think i might just start to
the squad is getting ripped apart, the cause of it is college
homies to go get some knowledge, come back looking tarnished
saying that i changed because of bars
but i jot them, you just pop them
got some confidence, now your thoughts are dense
because the broad you called a wench offers you attempts
we used to hop in tents, now your contents are contempt
as long as you’re content, so am i, i do contend
i’ll still sit and wonder when it was i lost my friend
just like i lost the one that lied to me and blinded me in my bed
still stuck up in my head are all the phenomena
like i said, i’ve lost it, and i’m locked inside an octagon, gone, gone, gone, gone, i’m gone

[outro]
i really wish these walls would get knocked
i really wish these walls would just stop
i really wish these walls could not talk

- p walsh

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