I'm watching the building blocks burning the shine away. I'm feeling my flimsy pace lap on the shallow bay. I'm turning these words around on top of the dullest gray cinder blocks. I don't want this to be my slow release, 'cause I'm sinking faster. I don't want this to be my masterpiece. I want to break through this plaster wall. I've been slowing my breath for a while now. I've been letting myself age, become a messenger for the South. It's time to take the stage. Don't take the glass away. My mind is running away. My mind is going astray. I'm falling into the gray. Invite this truth decay. Swallow your tongue. Don't say a thing. Let the good times ring.
