Let's separate this,
Seems my sentence to sentences is senseless,
When my sense is questioned,
Ever since I first penned this,
Wrote a rap... it's a start...
And made friendships, but this ain't friend-shit,
This is solo, so low and your ends wit,
Many problems, some things solve them,
But sometimes our rhymes create distortion,
And it's hard, to write bars at large,
When peeps write bars to act hard in charge,
What are you on top of?
Throw a stone at stoned drunk rappers doing hip-hop,
But my mind-set never changed,
That's why I'm still in this box today,
Hey, it's just life on reply,
It's hard to stay awake with these things that they gave me.
[Sample: Hook]
Sometimes I think I've lost it,
Lost the plot, lost logic,
What's this? Honest,
I used to love to write, record this,
Now it's a mission, nothing to be applauded,
Now I'm sitting in the corner,
Call the medics in for some medicine,
Begging them for some drink gin or vodka,
Bothered, by a life ran by monsters,
Feeling suppressed shallow depths of our culture,
Vultures, but I aint looking to be dead soon,
So stop hovering round my head in bad moods,
Sad dude, crap cartoon,
No punch-line here, when needed a lift too,
Another level, another place,
Nothing left, I'll stay here mate
[Sample: Hook]
Feeling dark like the glass on the van to court,
The tint makes devil eyes as the cars pass forth,
In no mood to talk, handcuffed as I walk,
Suicide watch, lights on, cameras in the cot,
Can't sleep, can't eat,
Tried to read but lost,
No clock, no meaning, conceded to law,
Lost in my thoughts,
Corner of my eye between bars I see,
Not bars in my head,
But bars that barred me from being me,
Sometimes we escape, become something else,
Sometimes we get lost in the image we created,
And lose self.
I used to think it was about the music,
And how we could use it to make a movement,
So stupid.
credits
from Alien [PE.2],
released October 15, 2015
Beat Production: Righteous Fist
Written, recorded and mixed by Drew Devine.
