Myth and Magic

Living out here like it's gitmo,
It's a prison I'm in
I can't see forw'.
Snow drop lines
and a cube and a coat
and boots and gloves
and sunrise come down
they ask me where I am and I'm salty as fuck like
"fo sho."

I carry the Atlantic in everything I do and what,
yes you, I already put down the pistol at the duel
and cruelty is just another method to learn to
when stall
turn and burn like you stole something.
Get ripped and hold the plastic bag close like
you stole something.
Just another way in.

Another way outta gitmo.
Someone say something or don't.
Let's get more.
Sleeping in a jail and there's bail posted by me.
Toes in the sand picking up shells
watching the sunrise and not enough bass
to take me to the place I want to ride
inside this cell.  

It's fun.

Snow angels.

Two bars.

Number one.