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I exist in a state of consistant transition
plans shifting, with insuffitient ambition
man listen, this is my advice
die or fight, get caged in or take flight
on the page inside the margin i make light
appear in the form of the words i write
its all solar, from the lows to highs
but your blinded by the wool pulled over ya eyes
by over-sized flies, that feed off waste
take the icing on the cake, and leave without trace
the man without a face i stay anonymous
the way we livin day to day stays monotonous
like ya bland sound
but with the weight of the world on top of us we still stand ground
and brake down, your fasination with the fabrication of the truth
make use of your imagination
in the pursuit of expression
not as a disguise to, hide behind when undressing
ya bredrin, i reckon, the question is this
to be or not to be - a simple lesson in risk
 
 
imparting this text, is my only life after death
im left gasping for breath 
asking for less tention and stress, about to suffocate
it feels like i need devine intovention to resusitate me lately
its like frustration has taken its hold
restraining me from breaking the mold
or making the most of my creative control
times taking its toll, im elevating my soul by
taking the old to the new like nice and smooth
my voice high likes to groove
the break sets the move, i express my attitude
towards my foes and those who show no gratitude
you cant calulate my longitude or latitude, 
navigate my catacombe, or reach my altitude
im too high, far too fly to stay stationary
basically i keep it constructive, like masonary
blantenly disruptive, and its disgracefully corruptive
system plagued with injustice
but this is purity, you cant touch this
its much more to me, than just fuck-ish
but i cant let that discourage, 
i salvage anything of value from the rubbish and repair
i wont be driven into submission or dispair
i prepare for war i heard the rhythem of the snare (right there)

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