You’re living in a fantasy world putting gas in a pumpkin
I never suit up or fasten a button
Even when offered to dance in London
I’m back in the dungeon lacking the funding to…
Paint the town red on bail
My monobrow’s just like a monorail
Girl you’re a category 5, very awesome
This is why we got married in Autumn
But I’m hiding behind the cherry blossom
You minus well just bury me in a coffin
Yeah bury me in the cloud cover
With a ledger full of loud colors ‘cuz I’ve been outnumbered
They said “its your turn, take it away”
My masterpiece, a paper mache
Loaded gun aimed at a day
Killing me off in my favorite way
Snapshots of my misery with slow shutter speed
Most niggas they brush their steed, puff their weed but not me
Sequestered in Birmingham while you’re at burning man
Listening to Birdy Nam Nam, acting like a girly man
I’m more like early man
Mixing colors for a cave painting
But my safe haven’s like a space station
I never wanted a women who busted balls
Or a lot of homies for trust falls
Executive orders for tough calls are all mine
What you suggest was pretty dumb
My mind’s full of undigested idioms
That’s why my hearts a congested city slum

Chorus:
There are constellations at my ceiling
There are constellations at my ceiling

You can
Be what
You want to be, you and
You can
Be what
You want to be, you and
You can
Be what
You want to be, you and
You can
Be what
You want to be, you and

Verse:
(You crazy Driver) Like I’m tingling off of the Bath Salt
Over-stimulated black adult
Putting my eyes in a catapult
But why would I need to see the stars?
My mind’s a sea full of stars (all of them)
Invasive procedures get okayed
It cuts a lot deeper than a close shave
‘Cuz social lubricants are roach spray
And my center of gravity’s a poached egg
I’m blank, I can’t sigh in relief
My ego can hang glide on a leaf
I don’t recall having my hand held
So I’m looking through all of my fan mail
For a lady who can dance well
Who’s guaranteed to make my glands swell
Or I’ll hang up my point shoes when these twinkle toes tire
And fix my point of view with needle-nose pliers
Let the sheeple soak in fire as walking sleeping disorders
I sleep in cocoons eat balloons and piss mortar