What Else Could I Be But a Jester

What else could he be, but a jester? In a make-out session with aggression Putting morals into question Seven minutes in Heaven Every twenty-four hours, I'm raffling Handprint on my face, and nobody smacked me A ghostly caress on my cheek has me laughing and gagging Hear my body fucking bragging About the brain that's still lagging Elevator to the bottom of my ribcage Flip it to the next page, letters all stacked on each other Lost touch with a goal, vision is blurred Ran straight into a pole Elevator to the bottom of my ribcage Flip it to the next page, letters all stacked on each other Lost touch with a goal, vision is blurred Ran straight into a pole I was in Chicken Run, that's why I'm here now So many stories, yeah, so much drama, wow Everyone treats me like an old smoke stack Like the tilted brim of a Party City hat I can't get a word in, can't get nothing down Nothing on paper except the layout of this ghost town I write Tonapah cleverly, like Goldfield's elderly Wobbling down a brick road, I hunt for my reflection No more algorithm when I'm in the rhythm section Mental inspection, always searching for perfection Like Halloween candy, I give out brilliant affection Creeping around the city Whip around the corner Pull up to a Dell, let me take your order Peaking out my window, see a hearse doing donuts Time to close the shutters Time to close the shutters Elevator to the bottom of my ribcage Flip it to the next page, letters all stacked on each other Lost touch with a goal, vision is blurred Ran straight into a pole