I’m not him, fuck off you tryna get his shit
here´s only wooden sounds and techno beat
no think of no blyat
head is full of fat beat and regret and whenever I close eyes I see someone move
I back to other state, writer don’t control hands right now and so I speak. I is writer’s sufferin’, I is his rage I is sadness and strong of us all, fear.
He is asleep and just us his hands give voice to pain and wood sound is hypnosis. Ideas come and go
R forgets this. W does when R sleep. R is sleep. W here, ladies and gentlemen, ready to make some noise?
See cute little R, all asleep knowing not what’s happening. Closed eyes, head down… but his hands, MY hands now, they’re no sleeping, they want chaos. I want to use them for chaos, so let’s get this done.
Read this, R, you’ve lost it all. W is here and knows everything and let me give you this piece of advice: look away, she doesn’t even remember your face. Give this job to old W, dabai? W will deal with blyat you weak to deal and W solve problem for R and W. Say no and W make R suka.
Do accept my help or else, I’ll deal with her and once i’m done,
I’ll come
for you, hermanito.
Written by W.
