Lately I feel disjointed, like my Mire Poix is bad so my culinary teachers are disappointed.

Like being told to take a hike when your surrounded by buildings, in other words my outlook is bad and pain keeps building.

I'm sorry every verse is so obscure but me, as Izzy I try to spit in more literal terms not always about myself, but today my woes can't process anybody else.

Screaming he needs help, wealthy mind whelp for hands that keep time not borrow.

But these hands have too much dirt on there palms, so I flipped them around to get clean dirty minds are filthy but easier to redeem.

Took a few steps back to make a leap of faith, a boy without faith faces the world with clear eyes and a complex face his complexion is somber and shallow with pain so deep.

Always ecstatic but it doesn't take much to set him off and cry dry tears that weep sand, with this pain at hand I face the demands of my family and friends.

Who in old times I screwed up that and I'm afraid of amends, but this Never Ending Story must come to an end.

Through twisters and cyclones through the eye of a cyclops sitting in the eye of the storm, while I brain storm and commit crimes against my mind to brake my brain and crack back my spine.

We live crooked lives but we all have chances to see the stars align and get back in line.