Leroy, keep your fists
tight
And overbearing
I see you
(Have come to terms
With)
From the scope of my hindsight
And that is where I begin to recon
Trudging the marshes of
Fourteen and eleven
The clock
Weighs
As much as our thighs combined.
You seeking prophecy
From a days work
I owe your conventions
A custom of trait
Whats between my legs
I don’t get much for
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