Iris rolled, life so cold, images gone out of range, I need a band aid, or some garorade, heal my pain, it’s impossible Do not feel the wound that was cut up in my brain, ima kamikaze mane, hailing from the bay, where you can kick it smoke a blunt chillin at the lake, later in broad day a mother and her son get slain, let me explain, my life is a picture esc movie to a few, but to most all they see is me smokin at the view. But sleep and surely you’ll forget about the golden rule, that life is only worth living to a few. Many got another that they treat as their own, and if they were gone they wouldn’t have a home. Even though they know, that as long as you living on this yellow brick road, you nothing but a stone, placed on this earth, for every one born there’s another one turned, so many that we morn, but the mournings over due, cuz the sun rose, and we all got some shit to do. Where’s the proof, okay okay that could be a fair question, let me lend you my suggestion. Stuck stone staring fussin and messin, look at all the imperfections you have found in your reflection, looks to me like an obsession, this life I swear they all feel like it’s a game, got pick one, but they both anxious and vain. Say they tryna make a name, but turned out is the thang you’ll end up pullin rank
