CAMPHOR

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Post Bag Productions

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I don't think vocally anymore
Mind ablaze like a matchstick in camphor
Find my gaze if you can't handle the rancor
Say your grace if you wanna taste the gold-skin

Man who prance with his princes on the dance floor
Shaking about till my legs turn to ankles
Imma get by with my head all on my bands, I
Can't waste time waiting for you to answer

I won't put you first place anymore
I'm like a fly and you're like a stick of honey
Waiting about tryna get me entangled
But you never want what you can't handle

If you run away from the red lines
Wait another day for the headlines
Never mind, what you need to get by?
Might have better pace with some other guy

If you only say what you never like
And never really pray to the deep sky
Then why do I give sway to your smooth lines?
Find my heart drowning in the rip-tide

F*ck the sun, I don't need it, give me
Vitamins and Weed and I'll be
Good, I'll go higher, Imma
Make some fuckin fire

Temple Bells ring and priests sing
I look the other way
I'm sorry Mama if you hear this I will
One day find my way

But f*ck my feelings, shed my weakness
Gotta find a nice little ocean breeze and
Grab my makeup wear my sequins
Gonna put on my Abby Lee shit

In the face of despair
I have never felt so bare
Swipe my pollex I don't care
F*ck a virus here's my lair

Never cut my hair
People always stare but I don't see them
I don't see myself... Bitch I know I'm fly and that's the
Reason I am stressed. I'm elite but not the best
Can I stand up to the test. Does it matter when I rest?
Will regret be my drive, love forsaken gotta try
Chiron's honda drives the Styx into a green night sky

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