Sometimes my actions don’t match my words,
It feels kind of absurd.
That when I speak, I don’t always feel heard.
Think a thought, speech is slurred.
Open mic, spoken word.
 
I act before I think, think before I act,
Speak, like a matter of fact.
I talk but, are my words intact?
I speak knowledge but, how do I know that?
 
Feeling kind of disconnected lately,
Everything seems kinda shady.
Looking through a glass mirror of daze, see?
Words mumbled silently.
 
I put my blind folds on, and plow through.
These changes seem inevitable and, see-through.
Life’s an open venue.
Im just re watching the last show.
How do you expect me to let go?
 
I feel the pain of self discovery.
Mental and, physical recovery.
Flashbacks, tears, laughter, and honestly–
Id rather be by myself and, overseas.

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London
plus de 3 ans

a lot of verses ' pretty clear your honestly versed

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