Navigations are at the top.
The deal's done,
Through these days you said you had not any fun,
Days, Week,
Years and Months,
Your sin had gathered,
Weighing tons.
Your heart has fonder for more then just one,
Your passion for anything equates to none.
See,
In the game of the seas,
Your ship has sunk.
In the real world,
Inches from making the dunk,
Dress like a punk,
Stink like a skunk.
Say no more.
Piece of junk.
If you wanted attention,
You've got it,
You got fumes of most humans lit,
Hotter then millions of BBQ pits.
For seeing what you done drives old man to fits,
For any boxer,
That was a critical hit,
Your sense is just as bad as your wits.
Go off,
Buy yourself a survival kit.
Nit.
[e]Z`