Surreal

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Jack, your mind's a hill,

That you can climb for thrills,

No need to find that Jill,

When you've got rhyming skill,

And the timings ill,

Each line becomes a siren shrill,

Reminding me to mine that hill,

Because I'm As high as a guy on stilts,

Aiming higher still,

With the fire builds,

A desires will,

That inspires chills...

Stopping me is highly improbable,

Even if you've got a bull,

A bison and Mike Tyson on a mule,

I'd fight them all blind fold,

With only my mind as a tool,

As I ride the bull through the mall,

In Istanbul,

Dragging Mike by the balls,

Don't believe the hype,

I'd simply ridicule them all night,

Then set alight the mule,

With the bisons stools dipped in petrol,

That I used as fuel,

By this time Mikes tied to,

The back of the bull,

Give it a slap on the back,

Then take an actual bite of the mule,

I rule,

Man that was cool,

And all factual...

Can you swing on the vines in the Jungle of your mind? Or do you falling in behind the walls that divide? Not at all satisfied, if its not black its white, And perhaps that is why that this guy just smashed up a satalite and snatched a mic before setting the flat alight, right? Wrong! And we'll make you see the light even if it takes All Night Long!