Shackle

A fair to middling pass collapsing on some dissonance

A fitter mode a better patch something to aid the bitter past

But you can't look backwards and keep up this pace

Locked in a contest of wills that are never displaced

I seek the higher call fire's all I seem to spit

Wander through the desert til I till the soil yet again

Turned the Gobi to gladd they're still catching up to speed

I write for the people who feel they don't have a creed

So 'fuck it's still the credo

Throwing shots Greedo

Until I cannot feel and fall into tube torpedo

Sent into the world I've been thrown into this