pragmatic handcannon

pragmatic hand cannon, give you bang for your buck
handsome as fuck, nicotine fuelled when caffeines my buzz
heart black as a cup of joe. morning madness awakes
add a splash of malaise just to give it that saccharine taste
carry the weight of the world on my shoulders just standing up straight
big headed. disinterested in what you’re having to say
captain contagion. covid face nappy under the nose
full on exposure. sicker than your average, month with a cold
and viral symptoms. scientifically doubled my dose
lungs are on smoke. keep your distance from me, nothing comes close
underdevoted, overexerted. fuck you if I know you in person
show me it’s hurts when I disappoint you. it makes it totally work it
cold as the world is. hot as the sun when its only options combust
nuclear fission bottling up to the point I want to erupt
leave stars lost in the dust like cocaine binges
treat class-a’s like a bad game, I don’t play with it
don’t claim different to falsify a checkered past that’s black and white
hand me life that’s dull and boring. unimportance and bad advice
I’ll snatch it right from the palm like the thumb of my dominant hand
promise to answer every question you’ve been wanting to ask
comic book panel lifestyle can see you gone in a Flash
lost in my grandeur, trailblazing like the comets that passed
unconquerable madness borders schizophrenic at times
went in behind enemy lines, words are weapons we generalise
buried my pride where the general lies. soldier of fortune
at home with the boredom of my self-growing importance
choked by the awkwardness. the morbid bliss of mundanity
kissing me faithfully on the doorstep as I’m thinking of taking leave
living disgracefully. drugs and regression numbing my senses
underpretences put into question. misery cuckolds depression
bear nothing but a resemblance to the man that I was
stranded in public, a thousand eyes stand up and watch
passing their judgement, thank you for nothing. looks of detest
words muttered against their tongues as they’re said under their breath
comfortably said out of earshot as if I’m nothing to them
scum on the tread of their soles. still I run with the best
now tuck in the edges, fluff my pillows and put it to bed
night terrors. my era give one hundred percent
we come in for heads like a brothel house. the fuck you expect?
gun to your head. pick one: man or a mouse
standing there shouting the odds you know jack shit about
get banged in the mouth like bubblegum. popping your bubble
talking sideways got you in trouble now, not wanting to tussle
concrete the jungle. paving slab gardens and pebbledashed houses
empty flats counting the sorta money you’d never last round it.