The worst pitfalls for a film are impurity, profusion, disorder.
“A piece of the action is all I’m askin’
Everything broke down into fractions
The fire long dead, this just smoke and ashes
Hope is an assassin, fear fill up the casket
One day I woke up, everything was made of plastic
“She loves me not” is where we landed
When the music stops, folks start looking for answers”
billy woods | “Artichoke”