Mr Rogers

Me in my thirties

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Mr Roger’s

I’m tired of Sales, we all must Vibe

Chillin where I hails, the redwood-pinez

I’m out here on standby for when I need to lob a pop fly mortar bomb in the backyard of an annunaki lawd-elite who fancy him a god in the under Case G sense, archangel Gabriel, these demons I’m cooking up the repent. You tell me who you behest and I’ll tell you how to redress we all just want to see less, psi-ops be a complete mess

Sign of the times let’s get it together, mr. Rogers in an old-world sweater, bells in the deep, they didn’t know no better. But how are you gonna talk a fool of me, when we be saying eulogies, I prayed for peace and got a fee received of which quite angrily.

So like a fish who knows his hooks, I studied hard, took out the books, became a shark overlooked

Quit riding the teacup ride over and over again, gov-er-ment be high as a kite taking acetaminophen. And then they think they have the right to even wield a pen which mightier than sword, they outlaw it when they’re bored, we do it like a chore, they say they needed more

Don’t be mad and try to boss this, I’m just allocating hospice for friends I haven’t lost yet. Been gardening like a hobbit. No boots they Hella soggy. Quit try-na see what only God see…

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Listen to the sonic sound rendition of this piece here: Mr Rodgers

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