I think that I was born so I could make this song

And I think you were born so you could prove me wrong

I think that you will point out how these notes are trite

And ill concede because the critics always right

Im back to writing but I feel a little static


I’ve gotten older so I don’t feel as emphatic

You know my story yeah im just a fucking addict

The market’s run its course now back into the attic

On the cusp of my hazy

Fraught and feverish mind

There is not one line vacant

In the synapse of my soul

The house was cold but we had pictures on the wall

To invoke an understanding of it all

Wrong direction led us both into the fringe

Self-deprecating as our minds became unhinged

Striking balance over years of push and pull

absolved of bedbugs and that dirty fentanyl

road to recovery an early talking point

new sensations but still broken at the joint

There’s no reason for this sapless lack of lack

The medium itself won’t keep this space in tact

Messages are shrouded in a caustic mix

Of virtue and of vanity begging to fix

No agenda that brings meaning to this life

Meaning’s just a medium for calculated strife

Lawless like Sunyata there’s no state to which im bound

Until the lack of lack proceeds to burn me to the ground

Im that stray dog

Leering through the fog

Left out of the ark

Dancing in the dark

coddled by the tree

branches like a leash

In the winter light

Im the blue kite

Written By Zach Choy