I look at the world wit a Utopian view.
Waiting to open the new.
This world seems childish like Highschool.
I stand on a pedestal, with my head down.
A tear streaks, my cheeck, as the youth is dead now.
You look away, and a life gets took away.
Led to a better day, where they will forever stay.
As I pray, my Utopian state disperses.
I get images, of funerals and hearses.
Closed caskets, seems this life is worthless.
No purpose, So niggas slang ROCK, for stock.
In the streets....
Like the Devil's gastric problems they pack heat.
What becomes obsolete, is my Utopian View.
Surrounded by demons, and Satan's minions.
What can I do, but keep my head up upon the few.
Hopin the fuel...that ignites fire, will be rained on.
If not will be singin the same song.
God Bless The Dead, where did we go wrong?

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Liba Dee

Penskills

RythmicTendicies