i find myself looking and wondering at all the hustle and bustle. it takes muscle to even get to the store. some want to eat and some want to eat more. i think we've forgotten the purpose of food. what is food for? to keep us alive, to keep us going strong or to stimulate our taste buds, to make us feel right when we feel wrong? the answer has been within us all along but we ignore it. to run away from the truth you don't have to fill the bong. you don't even have to turn off this song. i don't worry about my future because i've learned from the past. my ass has spent so much time in the grass that i've learned to enjoy it. mistakes are here to be made, that's what it takes to learn the different shades of gray. my misconceptions are made of clay: easily moldable, at any point foldable, hardly noticable. you think i'm not working hard enough and i think you're working on the wrong things. i leave with the knowledge that everyone else brings.
i'm going to spit the last verse i have. it's sad to walk around the earth pretending you're glad. instead, find happiness where you can. no one was put here to stand in your way. you and me, here, this was fate. so many traveling around us in an state of irate consciousness, and we in a stress-proof chamber. my anger filters through my music and yours has the freedom of the sahara. the world doesn't get to me, is it bugging you? because i can politely ask it not to. i lace up my right shoe and then my left. it's these little things that distract us from theft, famine, and violence. i have trouble keeping my silence. i know i talk too much. i have this hunch that it's exactly what you want to hear. my path is becoming distinctively clear. turn the other cheek and give me the other ear because for all we have to fear: life, loneliness, death, hatred... it's surprising i even function.
why do i constantly rack my mind? inside it's a fine line between wisdom and indecision (a metaphor to nuclear fission: competition into derision). four months ago i spoke to your head. now i speak to your soul instead. if you gather up the love and keep it well-fed and listen to what i spoke, not to what i said. i write my rhymes with blood that the world has bled. i was looking down on my parents while they believed everything they read. it's hard to be misled if you ain't got no path. a crew is only as tight as its staff. some understand compulsively through math. it's hard to incur god's love if you don't inspire his wrath. you project your sobriety while i'll put a mic on my laugh.
