We're trying to get over the hump per this HumpDay Extravaganza, catch me dipping down I-20 in Atlanta...
..my gateway to the universe; traffic made me pray and curse but I kept it moving passing the scene of the crime where plumes of smoke escaped from Biolab In Conyers it was no joke; somebody will understand a brotha!
Back at the scene of the crime analyzing the raw data like a detective from First 48 in Gwinnett County or Tulsa; meanwhile I sank slowly into it; oh yes, the driver's seat of the vessel / mothership?
It's very comfortable as I dip through local / national / international and intergalactic settings avoiding Kash Patel / Tulsi Gabbard / Todd Blanche types trying to jam me up like James Comey but my zone is perfect homie up in the mothership! perfect for a nightshift wordsmith..
..or grim oracle accompanied by the O-Dog Day Partyer dropping this breakbeat science on the scene of the crime but called imperfect per the naysayers.
The sport goes sideways at these crime scenes, populated by streetside memorials due to previous episodes but check these modes they can't stop these players!
The sport goes sideways at these crime scenes but we're back on these scenes, I mean where else are we supposed to go?
Back in the day the old school Baptist preacher up in Louisville told us to govern ourselves accordingly so we're supposed to know..
..how to act when we're back at the scene of the crime; the drama is compelling it doesn't quit / stop! time moves on, slipping / slipping mentioned by the Steve Miller Band but some might understand as I revisit some episodes.
Soon? caught out there playing it like a shadetree mechanic when adjusting mood meters into different modes?
Plus while back at the scene of the crime we know jokers aren't playing fair! different codes will be needed to adjust reality.
Even tarot cards say I'm ready to love again ; I don't know we'll see!
