Here you go, listen up, it's Y with rubber traits.

Drawing days from a stack deck of cards and doom, doom, doom.

I should cut down Michael O'Rick intake.

I should go to sleep hungry and boy, cut with my cuts knotted up.

And ears open like a burnt-down hut.

I want my mouth to always taste the blade, what I want, what I want, my bowl.

I want to kiss like taffy, hump, gentle on a bed of nails.

And feel salt to ride in eyes like a cut out of a plant's tongue.

I want my mouth to always taste the blade, what I want, what I want, my bowl.

The cut out of a plant's tongue does.

I want to dump early on at BMT the rest.

I want a patch of blue sky to follow me.

Unfold and origami death mask and cup my DNA with rubber traits.

Pull apart the double, he looks like a wishbone.

Always be working on a suicide note.

I don't want to ruin when I feel like I could have gone wild.

I don't want to ruin when I feel like I could have gone wild.

I don't want to ruin when I feel like I could have gone wild.

I don't want to ruin when I feel like I could have gone wild.

Productive, fully charged, cocked, pointed.

Keep a taper quarter on my bedside table.

Sweats only the pants that fit the best.

...