When I’m in target, I am the target no more
Getting my brainstorm baggage
Cleanin’ one step out before
I try to keep it back
Drivin my blood through the neck
To land the landscape store.

When I’m in fly-high’s
“cuting” my deep desires
I remind me the flush taste
Droppin’ my mind to the stars
I die my feelings to laze
My muted purple haze
To catch a strike at the door.