They call it art because it all fell apart
They got a story to share,
one with a heroic air
Not knowing, who cares
I don’t cuz I wasn’t there
I was constructing my verse
While you were spreading the curse
To lives with no loss, Stones with no moss
Nothing to give, got no reason to live, the media’s rigged
So I’ll stay inside, a sheltered guy, without a life
What’s the point, its old and dank, its smelling rank and
yelling names
Not playing games, forgetting dames, a life that’s changed
My mind’s deranged, and as I age, I see the ways and
don’t want it
So I pause it
Shift in in my hand, am I a family man?
Meant to start a clan?
Or a restless soul, forever broke by the wake and quake of
momma’s wake and bake
I rest my breath and now digress to soon digest this molten
mess
That leaves depressed, the others left
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