I like, I love, I write, I shove I make waves with an iron glove The sky can come as death from above I scrape my skin with a sharp hint of Dissatisfaction Run my fingernails through dirt Where I hit cable lines running up into the sky Keep my mind in August where my suit bleeds orange Where cartilage is easily torn Where tumors are born Machine metal, blue, bad air Taking up space and time...sleep there Grow up so much in a month Eyes no longer can be worn Skillful sky I'm blinded by too much sight Headlights for yellow eyes, hexagon eyes So for once I put up my hand and raise it to my heart Pledge allegiance to the graphs and charts Run my red wristbands up, I'm nervous