so now he’s in the basement
mixing his own medicine
underneath the pavement
trying to figure out the government
hacking like a bastard
preparing for disaster
this summer learned to plaster
only wish he could do it faster
two minutes left it might all end tonight
no worry he won’t go down without a fight
thinking of all the things that are not right
out in the backyard under the stars
arms with some muscle mostly just scars
more nervous habits like trapped behind bars
waiting to escape where’s the getaway car
parking and ready to go on a whim
no one will know or attempt to follow him
but that’s only if the future’s too grim
and shot after shot he’s hitting the rim
rhyming and reeling in a twisted state
thinking from the seven one nine
to the five oh eight…
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