I suffocate on my own infectious imagination.
Rolling up my hallucinations in this clouded mind of stagnant motivation.
If I was to ever escape this quiet room,
this oasis;
would’ve already infatuated my sense of liberation.
I suffocate on my own infectious imagination.
Rolling up my hallucinations in this clouded mind of stagnant motivation.
If I was to ever escape this quiet room,
this oasis;
would’ve already infatuated my sense of liberation.