I'm such a hypocrite. Still no less into it.
Too much in sync with it. Miss Ogeny, prodigy majestic.
Settled for less of it.
Little Diddy didn't do it? Bowie bows down to it.
Theft a part of every great artist.
Six months, dissappearance.
Reverence ends, begins with death.
My sentence? Another round of breaths.
Sighs, cleft of my chin.
Sunk deep between...you rise.
Words from the wise.
Crestfallen at the size of your lies.
Given the chance, I'd fly high too.
Forget who I am, you.
Only syncopated echoes ensue.
Rhythm given, selling black guru.
Repackaged, rearranged.
Ownership battle, deranged.
Every line known, sang.
Cortesia por favor to Gaye.
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