I didnt know crazy till I got older, Thought I was bold enough to hold a whole ocean of emotion. Know body told me I was joking. Or chokin on the words I had spokin

Wrong was my minds image of what hope is got mine up and watched it tumble down around the town where I was orphaned nothing was ever more important than going straight after where the source lives

To me, if my lifes work could be a lifes work nothing more could be so blunt to become an agent of my hearts will and to learn to not ever give it up write a story of true love and be a slave to whats become a lonely poet drunk on cardamom and rum

I was told with old age comes wisdom my age aged while my wisdom stayed the same and all of this "time will tell", you know? is a game for those who bet with plagues of misinformation set the stage for their creation then force it on us like some sort of "Democratic inspiration"

having a mind is a little bit frustrating when I use it think about the lies that lay waiting to disguise from me my own destination I havent even touched on corporations and a wicked bad menstration felt by my entire nation during a collapse of the situation

just for that CIA mainframes record my coordinations when Im in route to save the truth adding flames to suburban occupations while they sweep the floor in a cell waiting with my name on it a black bag in the back of the van some guy will place my face in

for treasons seasons have fallen fast to seeds that sow unrest and show the best and worst in humans ultimate test to suggest another avenue and get beaten down instead is worth a whole lot more civil disobediance