Work before play,
Sleep deprived before the day
Starts rolling across the sky.
She wakes up snoring, rolls away.
A paid traitor is what has been said,
But there's no truth in this duality
When formality is dead.
And with a rush of blood to my head,
It goes from gray to Pink's,
Feeling like I should just like I could in L.A.
Connect the dots with freeways and stoplights,
It's the only thing I got right
After I took the third left.
I deal out words through shuffled thoughts
Until the court is out of order,
And there's no gavel in judgment's hand.
I swore myself in without ever taking the stand;
Is it becoming what I hated
Or what I couldn't understand?
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