Captain Backspin Laughing in the Aspens

Looking for an angel dust queen something soft and tangerine
looking for a little gentle something make me strong and lean
I’m a little vixen just sixteen high hips and ass twitching.
Life is flinching. Pinch me if you’re willing. And still in the game.
I’m strong and I’m bending. You’re in my arms. Mending.
Stitches stitched together, melting. Like a drug dealer stealing Listerine.
I’m on the run with a gun in my sock and my cock all glistening.
I’m laughing like a swan in a slaughter house gasping its last breath
masking the pain of a fast dealt blast shield layaway plan gone wrong.
I’m the last man in the trash can. Call me Captain Backspin, dog.
Still running with the wolves in the aspens, crashing into a love song.
I’m a masked bastard with a flask of gin I pack them in and I keep it raw.
Life moves fast, y’all, but that’s just a movie, Charles Bronson ain’t
drop kicked in a bit, kid. Life’s limited edition primitive emissions
fall apart like a Buick’s transmission I’mma hit the ceiling when the
feeling kick’s in and the beat starts sticking my body’s just wicked

 

 

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