Styled'

Talkin' shit like never done one, yea?

Short glasses are beginnin' to sink in,

Blur faces splurging your regrets deep,

All words to just make you think,

But none of these people are kids,

And the whole year they spend like sin,

Maybe those were just too much,

To be that rich;

People I meet, need not be ever;

Hundreds of faces burnin' from flavour;

Cuttin' the irony, sonder your exception;

You talkin' the need of a souring scent;

Callin' by, but oh I don't see any tear;

Switch up that lane, wrong plane;

Reconsidering the pain, yeah?

Now they wanna be friends;

Everyone expounding ecclesiastic ebb,

Everyone entreating executed exit,

Putting on, the bored;

Pluckin' the page you never chose;

Blowin' by the favour, far the cry;

Comin' alive in the moment, alone;

I'm in the Déjà vu, but never trust again;

Lackin' in your brag;

Legend of the Troy, naked expression;

And this poetry is so styled, so why not call your song?

Brought another coffee, undeniable approach;

Now I'm moving farther, ignoring that why'

Staying up at night, efficacious fiasco'

But embarrassment never left the line;

And we ain't in love, but obsession...