you can gaze out the window, get mad and get madder. throw your hands in the air, say “what does it matter?” but it don’t do no good to get angry, so help me, i know. for a heart stained in anger grows weak and grows bitter, you become your own prisoner as you watch yourself sit there. wrapped up in a trap of your very own chain of sorrow.
let it happen…
remember when niggas had they voicemail set up to sound like they answered the phone. like you call and it go “wassup” u start talkin and it say “sike nah this my voicemail” now u lookin dumb as hell like
what if i died in like twenty years and all i left my girlfriend was a box and like she gasps and reaches down to her chest where her key necklace hangs that i gave her twenty two years ago, and she uses it to unlock the box and all that is in there is a string which you can pull to reveal an embarrassing photo of spongebob at the christmas party