Crumbs on My Psyche

I like that cheese
on bread, that cheddar,
add a little butter,
that shit’s tasting better.

But that whole wheat
is crumbs and
I took the bag, blew it and
popped that bitch,

now tell me how
can I make a sandwich
with just cheese and butter.
Cut smoother than

fresh cut leather.
The weather is cold
but the heats not right
sleeping on coals

on my bed at night.
It’s a fight
keeping my psych.

Yeah I lied when I
said I’m alright.
Things aren’t right.
Can’t tell the left.

Left my head at the
foot of my steps,
now I’ve lost my mind.