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Sorry I Can't Go On
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July 2011 Bout time i said i enjoy what i've been writin,
helps me with the post trauma after all the fightin,
smoke delightin up my room, light up every night and,
wake up to make sure my level of high heightens,
sniper scope laser dot, crouchin to kill em all,
whiny little kids crying i call it my battle call,
bitchin about everything as a status, i call it bawl,
not ballin still callin the ole call as the role call,
life hands me a bat then throws me a curveball,
hands me to the sheriff, life on the line at the townhall,
how to hurt he who has no feeling left at all,
lets let him taste happiness then prevent his curtain call,
so while i enjoy it understand each line hurts,
like runnin 3 miles, rashin up from your undershirt,
sorry i'm street, you're predictable like vert,
from my point of view everything i read i pen blurt.
