Hahaha. Yeah. Yeah quick shout out to my boy Aliyas. Lyric Growers. Thanks for this beat man. I don’t know how to put this in words. It’s like a downward spiral. The worst part of the whole thing to me is how time goes fast when I want it to slow down. Put myself in the ground. Make like a jack-in-the-box; twist me around. Put me down, then build me up. Don’t give a fuck, I’ve had enough.The time has come to blow myself up. Self-destruction. Suicide bomb. Bombs away, and the range is good. And the targets down. And I wish I could be what people expect me to be, but it’s hard being a peasant in royalty. And it's hard making friends show loyalty when I can’t trust the ones that are close to me. Can’t lean on ‘em, no “Stand By Me.” Feeling like outside is where the inside should be. Try to find the true blue me, but the me that I see isn’t what it was supposed to be. Can’t even believe what my eyes tell me. Can’t even think when the world’s screaming. Can’t even hear when my ear’s bleeding. The needy beings feeding, dreaming about how life was taught to me. But the truth is never the same as a bedtime story. Never know what’s coming. That’s why running is better than walking. I’m done talking. I’m done playing with pretty things. Start listening to how the city sings. Just do your duty- fuck obstructions. See the beauty in destruction. When heroes fall to the ground, you think they’ll never get back up. They start to crawl, don’t make a sound, and nothing’s ever good enough. If your God were to bleed, would you still believe in Him? Sometimes that’s all that we need, someone to save us from our own villain. Call me the doomsday bringer, the last note singer. The tenth round ringer. The one and only finger that you see among the fists punching up into the air. And the lighters waving like the hands cause they don’t care. They don’t matter. Like a kiss at a wedding I’m betting that it’s not the first time that the groom will be bedding his new bride. We cheer and we clap but inside the voice of reason is being told to back down. Like a stuffed box full to the brim, you put it in the corner of your room and never see it again but the way that history always repeats itself means that those bad memories won’t stay on the shelf. They always come around and show us why we set 'em there in the first place, a reminder of the worst disgrace. Falling from grace; dirt on your face. Put the shovel down junior- you can’t win this race. When heroes fall to the ground, you think they’ll never get back up. They start to crawl, don’t make a sound, and nothing’s ever good enough. If your God were to bleed, would you still believe in Him? Sometimes that’s all that we need, someone to save us from our own villain. I thought being strong and staying true to myself was all I would ever need to do. But I guess that the strength I thought was in me was just a mask I would wear when bleeding internally. Look at my face, behind the cape and the cowl, behind the make up, and the logo, and the grim reaper scowl, and the deep voice growl, the enunciated “POW!” I could use a little help figuring all of this out. I need a sidekick, wingman, Robin, per se, or at least someone who understands this crazy world today. Cause the heroes I had slipped away in the past, and I doubt this new generation of ‘em will last. Whatever happened to the days when talent was praised? Buying stuff from Billy Maise and un-AutoTuned Kanye? Those were the good old days, now they’ve gone away. These legends left behind are all that remain. When heroes fall to the ground, you think they’ll never get back up. They start to crawl, don’t make a sound, and nothing’s ever good enough. If your God were to bleed, would you still believe in Him? Sometimes that’s all that we need, someone to save us from our own villain. These words are pointless, noise on deaf ears. The whole world could sing the chorus- still, no one would hear. Cause the bass just keeps going “boom boom pow.” And if the music weren’t so loud, we’d all figure it out- that the change we want can’t just come from a black guy. It can’t happen cause rappers keep spittin’ some dope rhymes. Just because the war ends, and you get some more friends, the Congressmen change a law and add an amendment. Your own constitution needs a hero. But a declaration without independence is zero. Like school on a Saturday without a teacher in the way the true lesson could be learned if you don’t walk away. But it’s okay. It doesn’t matter what I say. They world will just keep on turnin’ in the very same way. Wars will be fought, and lives will be lost. But it’s you, the true hero, that pays the real cost. When heroes fall to the ground, you think they’ll never get back up. They start to crawl, don’t make a sound, and nothing’s ever good enough. If your God were to bleed, would you still believe in Him? Sometimes that’s all that we need, someone to save us from our own villain.