Feral children of the night
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You're hungry. I get it.
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It's all been fashioned, so get in line;
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or draw one, it don't matter.
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You got another itch to satisfy.
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Just wait til your mother finds out.
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Same old songs on the jukebox.
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Art that swallows its vomit, over and over.
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In the nose, out the mouth.
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I just do what I can to calm down.
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Caught on the heels and yet somehow I stumble forth.
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Try to feed off a city whose blood so estranged from the source.
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Not anymore.
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Unsterile children own the night with envy; no mercy.
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You got another self to express.
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You're so lucky you're in the right place.
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Same old routine to wear out.
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Revolving doors, spin you dizzy into delirium.
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-----------------
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Mr. Artistic
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| None More Black |
