Storm

izzy wineheads running in circles and no shape, no face is clear
i think i’m in the middle of a storm my eyes filled with fear
the dance goes on till my face suddenly melts the lights are flashin' and it’s
rainin' bulletshells must be a dream with taste of truth
i hit the ground
those guys are frantic
and blow the finalists outta their way i’m gonna say something,
but the words will rise to a higher gain level thinking like a rebel
frantic
blow the finalists outta the way gonna say something
and the words rise…