I see a spirit in the mirror, and I think it's wanting recognition
Black smoke, slowly fading in the fairer distance
It's like frame protects a portal to a damned dimension
Maybe dementia's desecrated my definitions
I haven't flicked or gotten twisted in two single digits
Ditching blisters from the roaches stinging on the tip of fingers
It's non-insipid in the glisten of my pupils
I can see the visions it's as if I'm lifted now that I'm uplifted
I touch the glass, it's gelato as I tap into it
I push my hand in and get yanked and seen my slippers flew in
It looks exactly like the place I lay to sleep and what I see
A dirty blonde, with a bandanna and small-ish cool kit
He's 6'1, and he got naps in hair
Brown at his shoulders but his face is pale as Casper in air
I see disaster, flabbergasted as he passes, I stare
And see my face and I'm reminded of the havoc I bared
I was doing 'caine way before I brought the name into it
Committing stains 'fore I ever had a gang to do it
Man, I was sitting home alone at 13
Learning how to work a twelve gauge before I had anger to shoot it
Fourteen, I had a savior, but they turned to Judas
But seen potential as an angel through danger and shrewish
Many see that past viewed as the days they've been losing
But as for me, I got a scrapbook, I be flinching in pain runnin' through it
I was doing 'caine way before I brought the name into it
Committing stains 'fore I ever had a gang to do it
Man, I was sitting home alone at 13
Learning how to work a twelve gauge before I had anger to shoot it
Fourteen, I had a savior, but they turned to Judas
But seen potential as an angel through danger and shrewish
Many see that past viewed as the days they've been losing
But as for me, I got a scrapbook, I be flinching in pain runnin' through it