bruh

in the grove, | where the lemons grow, | where they drop ain't where they roll | what they catch, they seldom hold | i was told – so the legend goes... | if it ebbs, it forever flows. | all that ebbs, it forever flows. | and the proof is on my face | shells from broken eggs | and the proof is on my face | where it falls, it never stays | i say | i say bruhhh | like a call that sinners pray | like a prayer that's made from air | it fans the flames | inhale fans the flames | exhale fans the flames | in the passing of the days, even the fire goes to flames | come and go | pass the days | movement made | it fans the flames | it fans the flames | and the proof is on my face | even the fire goes to flames | when it rains |