Ætli maður fari ekki að leggja í huga rímur…
Bara einhverjar pælingar.
Jæja.. tékkið á þessu:


I confiscate mind matters to elevate the blind letters/
An attempt to behold life in it´s greatest form to hit home runs but it blinds batters/
A kind weather turning into a storm as you unwind at her/
Treated bad resulting in keeping anger inside cos you can´t find better/
Love in life, it comes in strikes,/
the neverending strife/ to become, and get some on mics/
Definitions gone slight wrong, like bums in fight/
to hold the honour of being the greatest of worst though it won´t get done right/
And interstellar premintions won´t predict my lifestory/
Selling your soul to buy friends trying to invite glory/
We´re all gods children, the earth´s a cradle in this galaxy/
constellations of horoscopical demands are vast in needs/
And they´re chained together, set for, can´t spin free/
As the end of it all looks at me like it want´s to challenge me/
We seek personal harmony/ but it´s barred with pleeds/
Our own system a cell as we sell souls praying so much we´re scarring knees/
Put soft breaks on hard wheels/ rubber when you need carbon steel/
Like lifting yourself up and fooling too discover the feel of armani/
So hard to time terrific/ in a world encrypted in hyroglyphics/
Repeating everything we see programmed with minds of mimics/
A vision infinite, stubbourn yet temptated,/
We love and lose then loathe until we hate it/
A birth, lifetime, death observed in a micro second/
You´ve waited to talk to the reaper only to hear hims say:”I´m your end son”/


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Fight with creativity - not weapons.