#KidRock #GovtMule #SaturdayNight

mike drop

I SHOT THE SHERIFF BUT NOT THE DEPUTY
SssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssS
Full of the scatological terminology divulged from the illogical conclusions of useful idiots
You have a state of mind that will become dead in the head, burial, wild animal food or fire
Pretty as the ugly step-sister, she is fertile & ready to bear the children of the golden dawn
Numb nuts from the tree of knowledge, circumcised a shell, only nuts left, the fool’s pawn.

Whiskey poured down my throat, I’m never drunk since I’m a Headman walkin’ on a stop sign
We always got what we give to the new radicals, they do it in style and fly in for your jury trial
Friends are hard to come by, you’ll know which ones stand by you once you’re older than dirt
It becomes a lesson well learned, everybody falls apart & dies, lovers, haters, I’m right behind.

Word-Up is goin’ down in pseudo-history from alpha male to a female, it’s unknown x’s & y’s
Code broken down into units too small to measure with manmade rulers and beakers of acid
Break hammer time down into your mamas & papas because you have no free choice option
Idiots flap their gums, false teeth or perfect chick-lets won’t help the moronic blather of sons.

Daughters of Blather are the spreaders of the illogical deductions, irrational comprehension
They bear more of their own if they figure out how to cause terminal insemination division
Sixpence just a tanner of value, nearly more than “self” worth, you swing, like an ape in sin
Original or mortal, venial or Copycat reproduction, pleasure to come along on your trippin’.

#TrumpDerangementSyndrome is the Golden Rule of the moronic imbeciles who breathe in
Wasted breath that nobody will ever recover from the Cosmos, so I’m gargling woke blown
Choking up the swallowed chafe and alcohol due to a lack of molar grinding blockage, a sin
Original shape of things to come have become the present time in this Space, rockets flown.

here will be a reckoning with the good lord, your God of the Universe, Ala, Budda or Zeus
High dive I jumped off of when the diving board slung me up more than 40 feet in the airs
Let me dive headfirst into a chlorine-clean pool, 16 feet underwater, God tapped me easy
Stopped breathing, heart can’t pump blood through arterial circulation, Death seized me.

Just a thing or two I can say before the finale of the operation, it’s a counter-revolution tic
Piercing the veil over your face, your nose, eyes, ears, mouth’s two lips and 32 white teeth
Schemes run their course & either succeed or fail with a fortune of random Romeos’ dicks
Fathers of the human species are responsible for their progeny’s successful or failed antics.

Cool that you may blame luck or a divine creator of the Matter & Forms of substantial H2O
For the chaos that results from the order of things, from one-celled plants to huge Randos
Be a lying lion or a trippin’ tiger posting at the door for entry or exit, out of divinity’s focus
Bottom line of the backbeat is either treble or bass, offbeat until the rhythm is right below.

As your toe taps upon the floor, you are an immobile malfunction of the liquid turned solid
By the ounce, kilogram or megaton, Santana comes and goes in one ear & out the other too
Supernatural rhythm on the radio, need & want all that I can get, more than you’ll ever get
Sail away with me, not with him or her, I’m the one merged within the wind, it’s all off set.

The boom came loose during the night when my wife was pilot watch, I was snaggin’ Z’s
Boom came loose, it’s still ajar keepin’ the ship upright without a pilot, there’s no rudder
My cool wife was swept away with no life jacket in the middle of the midnight moon light
Still 60 years later, it’s just like yesterday when I was the Sheriff of Dodge City’s gunsmoke.

Luck and direct intent should gently mix into the reality of the situational tests of my mind
Undivided in intention to have total attention on subjective opportunities as they all come
Maybe never or maybe tomorrow, I’ll look for the bean bags in the hole, spit’s BBQ I dined
As above, so it is below for peace of witches’ minds, good & evil, our mother’s soul sisters.

Take what you give if & only if it’s offered, once given there’s usually a no return without it
Bums, junkies are usually the children of the parents who allowed kids to be out of control
Hyper-hyphened into oblivion, can’t recall the reason for the rhyme, it’s significance of soul
Cool dream in an overheated nightmare, so real I thought I wasn’t dreaming, yet I was asleep.

At the wheel, woke up inside of a tree, my skull cracked in two, below me 5 pints of red ooze
Nothing more to say other than, don’t drive distracted or you’ll die in a superego crush crash
Porcelain dishes called stuff holders, awaiting mastication & defecation in the outhouse shed
Need what you want & vice versa because the rest is just hot air, rock-solid all inside my head.

Where are all of my daughters? They’re out at the rock and roll show for the end of Times
You’ll know the deduced answer to the question when you’re cut to the size of a thumb
You’ll all realize the enormous evolutionary advantage of being smarter than rock dumb
Pioneer survivors of one Big Bang are all here in one spirit to boot, a motherlode rhymes.

 

by
r j j stephan, i
c. July XXth MMXXIV Anno Domini @ 411 PMPST

{ Drafted listenin’ to @GovtMule link #Rockplast on youTube link @https://youtu.be/AqWOauHIh1k }

F I N I S

W.W.A.R.D.?