Larry Fisherman

I haven't written, I haven’t written anything in a minute

[Verse 1]
My best thoughts lie in my lowest moments
Deepak Chopra with oministic omens
Harmonious rhyme schemes
'Bout as bright as a high beam
I'm walking a tight rope and running a rat race
But coming in last place
Could tell you how that feel
The epitome of a congratulatory ribbon
Still I spit the sickest sentence under the sun
Isolate a n***a, second to none
Wandering, looking for purpose
I’m lost, I know that for certain
Now take a look behind the curtain
More than meets the eye
I never beat the odds
I do believe in god
I've been around the block
I took a couple steps
I couldn't keep the pace
Pardon my post traumatic rant, that's just manic depression
Can't pull myself out of this hole that I was fucking left in
My mind is a landfill of landmines
Watch where you stepping
Wishing that sanity would intervene or fucking step in
You know, like pull me back when I'm regressing
27 years old, I still make the same mistakes as an adolescence
I'm brain dead, half the time I'm just a convalescence
Coughing and stressing from the pressure
’Bout to light the essence
I live in hell, it’s hard to tell
This weed is heavenscented
So fuck a Lexapro, this indica is antidepressant
Nonselective, narcoleptic, narcissistic, non objective
Been subjected to the old convictions
Fuck an intervention
Interjecting with some interesting introspective thoughts
That I think aloud, you think them too
I'm heavenbound and demonproof
Must’ve been something in that water I was baptized in
I feel more then fatigued
I feel mortal but free, Rasputia on my final ride
Like why the fuck you keep adjusting my seat
I'm well aware the thoughts and speech become reality
Reactions to our energy, it's significant in the scheme
A dirty soul with rotten deeds
The outcome ain't clean
Negative pessimistic shit, this sick as HIV
Can have you on your deathbed with cold sheets and no pillow
Sealy Posturepedic trying to fix your posture ’fore you posthumous
Pop your cord to meet the lord
The list of sins you paying for
It's more than you can afford
But hopefully the pasture's green
And it's everything they described to us
Books written by men with sins
I hope they didn't lie to us
Rest easy