the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

In Boston, Reppin' L.A.

A rush too much of what could go wrong,
I'm feeling skittish for these skits,
But I guess I couldn't quit now;
Just tell these brains to sit down.
So I sit down with a handful of glass bullets
I'm hit now with going through it,
Straight through the heart
And the measurement of time
I could not draw the line
Between finish and start.
Nostalgic, shameless
The stage, spotlight.
Ironic, painless
I'm whisked from the stars...
It was getting late and I was debreathed
For the Far East had found their way
On to the West Campus,
That stamps us the best house around,
I felt an accent coming on,
I felt my feet lose the ground.
Until 3.a.m., it was a Red Cup Social
Where we kicked it like fam,
Like we were supposed to.

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