TRUMP SMELLS B.O.

TRUMP SMELLS B.O.

 

TRUMP SMELLS B.O.

 

 

 

 

BUST UP THE BEAT TO INTRODUCE IT'S TEMPO
GOT ME PLACES TO GO
SILENCE IS GOLDEN GOT BLOOD THAT"S UNFOLDING
SITS IN HIS IVORY TOWER ENGAGED IN THE WALL WHILE HE SITS IN HIS IVORY TOWER

 

 

 

TRUMP SMELLS B.O.

 

I know years to know used to being with your history

 

eager long to achieve

 

needs to take a nice hot shower

 

going down to the wire...,

 

 

 

got choices with the most chances highway glances

 

glad he switch his Depends tyed beauty within,

 

another one bites the dust with the whole world in a rush

 

doing cart wheels out in the mood a sought of time to renew

 

 

 

Trump Smells B.O. which way should we go ?

 

some are in a trance

 

a given chance at any romance

 

Pac sought love through concrete

 

on again out again cry for relief

 

 

 

Can We Talk ?

 

hit a sister mister said to high HITLER,

 

SONG REMAINS THE SAME SOUGHT EVEN SHADE

 

LOVE FAXED IN WHERE IT IS WE DEPEND

 

 

 

YOU GOT TO KNOW WHERE YOU ARE iNSTEAD YOU HIDE LIKE ROSANNE BARR

 

NEEDS TO STOP BY INSTEAD OF GETTING HIGH

 

VAPE

 

 

 

with heightened fresh tender moments like these drift away to the sea...
suffering long in an empty room my pain drifts in illusive rights become pure
day by day we hear the sound of a lonely owl out in desperation my stomack leaks
cheer up good cousin as the thoughts simmer again back from beyond cracking,
this is enough of a good spot gross way back sat the owl in fact through radio

Trump Smells B.O. button down the captors embrace the hellos
I'm bust out the beat to increase the tempo...,
Silently in the dreams eating delicious ice cream,
I maybe a man of all mans,
P.U.
in the port of storm we call commercial radiating plugged in seperation,
fine darling pillars the growth of here after old man sit by the log cabin
at night he would take a pee outside his window taking heed to nature's dream
the owl would suddenly draw empty nothing but framed silence in togetherness
our cameras freshly made eating potato dumplings...

I aim human fresh under my wings,
look to the sun to help you get by...

allets's picture

Surrealism

rocks - P.U. - ok, bobbing on the high waves of the conscious stream - intriging write. - slc


 

 

Parablebox's picture

Nice rhymez, yo.

Word.


Name's Christian Dickerson, AKA Parablebox. I do music & stuff. Feel free to message me about stuff.

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