cheap men

I try not to be delusional about the day
But the sun is firing the dry hay
Makes it easy to find the needel lost in diversitys nasty picture
All caugh up in the richer
And I feel the pain flowing threw my thick artory
I try to defeet the the surreal poverty
Blue eyes starring as they cry
Brings me back to when I really did try
I remember the black hole
Falling and swirling into your deep soul
Finding nothing but fake tales and cheap wine
Gosh this boy was just not easy to define