Still trapped in some sort of apparatus.
I shoot high like Nowitzki of the Dallas Mavericks.
I've sipped the whisky and can tell you that it was tragic.
Vacation's over yet I still carry loose baggage.

A king of few, what exactly is that supposed to be?
My Ora's blue, I thought it was red that I'm supposed to bleed?
It's about 4:02, don't worry, I'm not focused on the boastfully.
I've got boats for lease, at least that's if you can cope with me.

Hopefully I don't become too hopelessly,
lost in this photo piece. A photo please.
Is all I really ask from thee, I'll shake your knees,
take your keys, and when I'm done there will be no vacancies.

This is far from a masterpiece, but Master please,
I actually receive less passion from a pack of B's.
This hornet's nest is so unrest, but what should I do?
Keep scheming so obscene until I reach arrest?

I'm far too blessed to be this distressed,
but I confess that life's one major test.