Love Bird Lost.

bruised wings on the lovebird. He can't truly fly anymore. He can just be content. He can just be busy or just be dead. There is no inbetween. He's either skyhigh or devil low, devil mood, devils pie, devils food, mind hurts, really hurts, he's a curse in his search for victory, misery, visits me, drugs keep tipping me, over. The over, things that keep happening, shit just keep happening, it's funny so I laugh it in, cry it out, vibe it out, hide it out, showing out, knowing thats not me, but that is my fee, to act like a G when I don't wanna be reached, when I just wanna be bleached, but instead i'm breached, of deep contact of I shouldn't of seen that... bring it back.. hold it back.... keep it down, keep it low, keep it proud, keep a smile, never frown, you don't want em to see you down, even if you feel the ground, hold ya breath and make a sound, you not a clown, you a trier, you not a seller, you a buyer, getting higher, little flier, mo fire, i'ma rider, death might really be the opposite of desire.