I’m said to be the pimp’s snitch
My protection always festers your fun

Your paths diverge and you cannot
Uncouple from that same old circle
The circles you scribble on
Every damn straight route you plan

Your directions are always dizzy

I believe it again, the waiver remains
Such confidence’s claws puncture inside my throat

Grow some balls, carry your burdens

You speak of maturity
But that’s what’s needed to fill your hollow voids

A god feels afraid as your ego bloats

Grow some balls, carry your burdens

Learn that glory
Befalls when you behold
What’s in your mirrors’
Surroundings

Is this too much for you to twig?