Undeniable, exasperated, the drama is exaggerated
overrated, compensated, everything but masturbated.
I keep
writing these songs, for things to come along,
I stay
twiddling thumbs, am I doing something wrong?
Or am I too impatient, is the wait so long?
Poppin’ bread out of the oven, but it’s all half baked,
now the heat’s all gone, to check was my mistake,
so I crank the dial up, now the dough’s all toast,
and I be feeling extra crispy cause I’ve been doing the most.
I got my
nine to five, for me to ride and die,
I hit the
open mic, share my truth no lies,
I keep
showing up for all the friends in my life,
Then whine at home sipping simp shit
just ’cause I don’t have me a wife.
I’ve got the
stacks on load, ready to unload,
so I can cop a fixer upper to make mi abode,
And I’m
starving for peace, call that my north node,
reclaiming everything we lost because of what’s been sold.
I’ve got a mined of gold in me but I’m too poor for bars,
ill considered licorice sticks, lickity split,
you say tomatoe-tomatoh, as if I don’t care,
then my pen is off the paper in a thousand yard stare.