Between these fine lines
I cant find my mind
In this fukked up place
Im loosing my self
Everythin comes from behind
Closed doors
Like 27 floors
Of total chaos
In phaze
In daze
I cant take this shit
Wanting my wayz
In liez
They despize
Everythin I want
And everythin i need
To succeed in this drawn out life
Of fukked up misery
For people who cant see
That i have the mind
To shine
And find the rhymes
To catch signs
Escaping from fines
And fukked up times
In ways of crime
I finally find the sign
To let my mind release
And form a crease
In the flattened page
Forced by rage
Trapped in a cage
Now the lime light of old
Feeling everything gold
Is sold in an instance
This life lost twisted, forget it
Its no longer the lime light
But a fright inspite of blinded sight
In doubt u shout another verse to curse the soul
That makes u gold, the one that’s old
No longer sold but spoiled
By the fact that they lack the talent to react to the fact that i have it all and u have nothing but something more now less causing stress laying twisted bodies to the final and permanent rest