sober at the speak easy. Table for one. Table for one, sir. Here I am.
A little bit older, a little bit wiser. I've been tested, pushed to the limit, to the brink of insanity when I dip my eye, when I think my mind thinks even more when I sleep, never letting a plausible concept deteriorate in the sink. But whether I was high or lower, it was fast times or slow times in the Lord is where my faith is forever vested and that's where it will forever reside in my mind. Shit, I've been blessed, kid.
Patience forever tried, whether it's outside inside the classroom. I embrace mental stimulations and simulations while trying to minimize any of my many frustrations. I try to cleanse myself of bullshit, thereby avoiding constipation. But damn, people make it hard.
I don't use that as an excuse. Rather factual resuscitation. What strikes me off guard is my true hearts abuse or my thoughts or words misinterpretation. Lord knows I hate that shit and for it, I have no use, why don't you forgive me?
Personal passions are personified in every word I ever scorn, I birth it as I deem fit. There's no need for it to ever be reborn. Clarifications are plenty. The meaning of it all keep it in me.
No chains and no restrictions, I let my mind speak freely. Yes, please. Write this way, sir. So, grab the speak easy.
Table for one.