Wylie

I feel like hell. I've caught the sickness once again. And I don't feel right! I ain't gettin' up. Think I'm slippin' away. I want to soar like the prophets before, Addicted to the turbulence. Sucked in under false pretense. I wanna say what needs to be said. Addicted to the turbulence, feel the past come rushing in. These palms don't lie I can't focus, when the statics on. Routines I hide don't mind killing this secrets mine. I want to soar like the prophets before, Addicted to the turbulence. Sucked in under false pretense. I wanna say what needs to be said.