The style is pungent and from the dungeon

Runnin and defib stunning

Smashin like a luncheon

Six wall budgin

Through the borders rushin

A curse cussin

Into The Infinite for deluxin

That’s when the consciousness begins to drift

There’s a feeling of a cold, under-the-skin lift

A creeping, all-encompassing sensation of bliss

Picture a bright blacked out blacklight kaleidoscopic trip

Such a vivid imagery should be hard to miss

Nauseating still limbo of self

All emotions placed back upon the shelf

No concern given to lifelong cards dealt

Absence of panic towards mental health

Everything is numb

An understanding that all are crumbs

In the grand scheme of The Infinite, the hum is for the sum