desensitized eyes on this body i am…in this mirror i am. i got ostracized and didn’t notice till i closed my eyes last a.m. didn’t see. i need a point to keep these eyes in focus. i need my eyes to be quicker than your hands. they aren’t and won’t ever be- so when you do magic i won’t watch. see, my eyes have an ego. i need these eyes like..i need the holes in my head. i always find something off, like a hairline. symmetry gives me boner, it isn’t boring at all. my eyes don’t bore me at all. neither do yours. i never saw you fuck, except that one time? i still get off to the residue that the image left behind. what i see inside my mind now isn’t technically with my eyes. i heard about a third, but i’ll believe it when i see it blink on my forehead. big head. five head. eye don’t know. eyes just talking.
Heres the problem, you meet someone. But by the time you do they have either been hardened by the affairs of the lover before you, or they have put up walls to avoid the heartbreaks of the past, or they’ve simply become desensitized to the finer aspects of love. Sometimes you are that person, and others you’re stuck devoting yourself to that person. But the identification is unmistakeable when you look into their eyes.
A bunch of white boys rapping about lower middle class youth, problems and happenings, talking about the struggles so individual to them yet relatable by many, rapping about their deepest feelings, sometimes rapping about nothing.