keep'em winning you green piece of shit,
even telecommunication is theirs. it ain't lit.

how many hurdles will you have the honest leap over,
just cuz you relate to them self loathing and somber.

how you make hate a part of your conscious,
scathing every bit of what brushes you sus.

open hearted and patience like a lake,
receeds under your summer blaze.

does everything good have to be tested to be true,
miles away from growin up. ||where is my monsoon?||