Can we all strive to be more than we’ve become?
Is God our true leader, are we following his son?
Does time only procrastinate to help us along,
or does it taunt us with dreams ’till we’re too exhausted to fight?
Composing the drum…..breaks is all we ask for,
a time to reflect.
Clocking in at six, living a life of neglect.
Servitude is Goditude. It’s what they expect.
No colored lines or class or sect.
We are all part of the same system with love and respect.
Don’t buy into the notion of hatred for your brother,
it’s all a design for us to hate our own mothers.
There is an enemy which is common but this is not it.
It’s the ones you can’t see,
the fine print they omit.
When dreams come to a halt, everything stops.
Music shuts off and lights go out.
Your mind crashes down in a drunken stupor,
no thoughts, no words, no backup disc.
Reality sets in like a porno fist,
shocking and painful and messy at best.
Never sure whats coming each minute you progress.
If I could shut it off I would but don’t have the strength.
Dreams are that fist, just covered in shit.
Best to stop here, wash off, look back and reminisce before your lungs collapse under realities bricks.