Conor - Dancer

Rappers channel the dead let the soul fly
Those who’ve passed push on the pen
Let the ghost write
Lowlife never amounted to a finite
They met tricks off the metrics
No perspective of the cosign
Home is where the heart is
Cats overdose on they morose
A starving artist
From coast to coast
I Space a spector cut Phil-ets
Inept my Markets Big East
Meets Gillettе
Edge of the Pen
Dirt can еncase every end
Of this place, I embrace
Every changing of bend
Ask me when
As if to save face, or pretend
That i'm not in a state
To replace all my wins
Start again
I ain't never been to strong
I ain't never been too long
For the shadows on the ground
I ain't never been too wrong
I ain't never been too long
To speak it into sound
Its the sickest taste
Wicked grace within the runes
I inscribe in tunes to animate
Intended but innate
Pitter patter heart upon a beat
Can hear it syncopate
Wonder when I die if God’ll greet me
With a metal face
I can feel my demons try to eat me
In a drunken state
Thousand eels stomachs all reachin
For my dinner plate
I can stand out upon the shoulders of my own stan
I can snatch the pieces of my life from out its cold hands
Whose that foot in my steps
What the means to my purpose
Whats a right when they've left
When defeat becomes urges
I become my own death
Means i become my own life
I could be a whole person
If I could take my advice
Ive- always been so wrong
Ive- always been far gone
I just want to be free
Ive- always been so strong
Ive- always belonged
I just need to be me