Hang me around

 Hang me around, without a sound, I shall submit my virtues and clowns;

redeem my code, barred by demons of suffocated wishes of broken dreams.

The yest had a fake-date on the joke, hanging by a thread on the hangmans noose.

Best before I die, is to find kindred spirits, to haunt my empty vessel for a gig;

don't lament, if you make the roof fly to the Heavens, Bulletproof vests congest;

they cannot duress the chess of pooled feelings interlude and caress that angels hair.

Can't stop the music redeeming my barred codes of Channelled no. 4 Universal clips 

of motions, on the old testament block, what would have made John Wick loose the mark.

The chesthair had a silent stair with the barrel of the coffee machine, saying: "Buy some more!!"

The nuts there all kinds of evil, the D was stolen by the Progressives, for fuck I know why.

I guess some gangsta was hanging it around the neck to play advocate...