We're all born ordinary, although miss verity called commentary
Yea it's a God complex, when he found Moses caught courting Mary
Short stories ended, but just as they did life sentences started
tentative laughing replacing points of view, tension is pardoned
We evolve in non norm shadows, working in search of false profits
translated body language when being made to make forced comments
Here in shoes that are too big and my inner child is a man stuck
my mirror image is that of one that'll bring me 7 years of bad luck
Put my hands up, as I give up, that's the only giving I'll give
it's just the way that life's testing me for this D, missing a kin
Piston of sin, spinning, condition- 3rd eye vision crimson tinted
beaten within an inch of life, but life and death is within inches
Coherent to this whole purpose appearance of above-board existence
but why live for the moment, if every moment is done in fear of?
I'd rather peel off from routine dawn breakers and sunrise wakers
so I can harbor a voice of my own and become my very own hater
I'd be mad at myself for being a product of such a foreign path
from A to B like the blueprint was a dot-to-dot, the common graft
Anyone would take-over from a price tag, how do you value yourself?
all that glitters is not Gold, its not how you tower your wealth!
Because the power was dealt, I have bad hands, no grip on reality
I drop knowledge, I can't hold my sanity it's shown systematically
So as I sit and bleed my heart my two cents are worth chicken feed
people catch their Z's from me, no-one cares, it's a given, see?!
People think they see how the pigeons see, prospect high and mighty
What a load of non-sense, it'll go up in the incense of fire lighting
Empire tyrants pilot this plain sailing, they're trained Damiens
was it even a contest playing preying to these war game assailants?!
I'm poor and staying it, wasting this [space] and state of living
showing this obsolete feat that paced my prison, grace decisions
Only to haste positions I'm in, it's a case of chasing the wind
as the anxiety begins, my high spirits are in that case for the gin
Face is the twin of a distoreted image that landed on Picasso's canvas
And I guess that's it..standard! As a matter of fact!