I Sold Myself In Paroles

look what crawls in.

Now I'm trying to keep my head above your dead pool, deep end.



I sold myself in

in on the joke of the spin.

But this burned-in cynical grin

is fading again.



Turning the hooks to catch nothing,

I'm let off.
Spotlit marks for your self-styled

comic book sharpshooter

blind spots before.



I sold myself in

in on the joke of the spin.

Now this burned-in cynical grin

is fading again.



Peeling those tired eyes

to steal and refine some sleek pitch line.

Wide of the mark, pressed to define

Connect the dots,

line by line.