The voices don’t turn off,
When I go to sleep,
Got me hearing them,
Every day of the week.

The voices don’t turn off,
When I go to sleep,
Got me hearing them,
Every day of the week

I personify my trauma,
Cuts on the wrist,
For a wish,
Just a wish,
That I didn’t look like this.
Cuts on the wrist,
For a wish,
Just a wish,
That I no longer felt like this!
Some say I need to stop the drama.
Treating my pain,
Like mathematics,
******* divisible.
Becoming invisible,
With my struggles treated as inhospitable.
Why do I gotta be treated as a criminal?
I’m just trying to speak out,
But yet you think I’m in it for attention.
Shoving pills down my throat,
Thinking that’ll cure the infection!
It’s no wonder that...

The voices don’t turn off,
When I go to sleep,
Got me hearing them,
Every day of the week.

The voices don’t turn off,
When I go to sleep,
Got me hearing them,
Every day of the week

Stuck in a toxic belief pattern,
With cuts on the wrist,
Cuts on the wrist,
Just for a wish,
Just for a wish,
That I didn’t look like this.
Got cuts on the wrist,
Just for a wish,
Just for a wish,
That I no longer felt like this!
Yet people say I chose this!
You think I’d choose this?
You think I’d choose to be beaten?
To be picked on?
You think I’d choose to have,
My father abandon me and my mother?
You think I choose to be abused?
To have teachers saying I’m worthless.
You think I’d choose this!
If you do you’re ******* stupid!
It’s no wonder that...

The voices don’t turn off,
When I go to sleep,
Got me hearing them,
Every day of the week.

The voices don’t turn off,
When I go to sleep,
Got me hearing them,
Every day of the week

The beggars bend the knee,
To foolish dignity,
God will save the king.
But who will save the weak?
Who will save the weak!

Chains clatter along,
Jesters distract them all,
The mindless trot to song,
That is like a sweet wine; filled with lies.
Justice crucified.

Blood runs like a stream.
Cleansing everything.
Of supposed toxicity.
Got to look beyond the schemes.
Where the devil lurks beneath.

The beggars bend the knee,
To foolish dignity,
God will save the king.
But who will save the weak?
Who will save the weak!

Hunger pains the wolves.
Scrounging animals.
A desire unfulfilled.
No matter how much one kills.
Bodies are hollow shells.

The smell of rotting flesh.
That has befallen all,
Trapped within a hex,
That is comforting as is draining.
At the same time.

The beggars bend the knee,
To foolish dignity,
God will save the king.
But who will save the weak?
Who will save weak!

One of the greatest evils is big pharmacy,
Tons of minorities locked in jails for selling ****,
Sometimes getting life while rapists only get 2-4yrs...
****, that’s even too young for R Kelly.
Perhaps it’s just a pisstake?
Oh, **** I meant mistake.
Are we selling drugs to lawmakers?
Because I swear their brains are half-baked!
In a court of law,
Where one stands before God.
Yet man makes the judgement.
In a court of law,
Where one stands before God,
The same God your ancestors claimed they came with.
That left some in enslavement.
That left some in encampments.
That left behind a genocide,
That was justified as refinement.
A refinement that,
Took the land of others and made a profit.
A unearned profit that came from the blood and sweat,
Of those oppressed.
Yet many have the audacity to say get over it.
I wonder who truly has it easy?
I wonder who really gets the hand outs?
It’s definitely not the homeless.
Or the impoverished.

In God we trust,
Yet one’s nation is consumed by lust,
Treating money and *** as greater,
Than the God you claim you trust in?
In God we trust,
Whose God is that?
Mine or yours?

Perhaps the greatest evil truly is people?
For our human nature,
Keeps us from ever being truly equal.
With the change process becoming slower than a snail,
Have we truly hit the final nail?
In that coffin?
Still trying to spray perfume on what is rotten.
Is this all for not?
Stuck, and so caught up,
In a web of our own making?
Leaving a toxic cycle to keep on spinning,
All because of our pride,
Unable to control so we divide,
And than we conquer,
Watching as we **** each other,
Over wealth, land, religious beliefs and colour.

Silenced, prisoners of democracy.
The violence, that breeds disparity.
Words that poison all of humanity.
Hopeless, in the face of adversity.
Wondering what would it be like?
To be different.
Wondering what would it be like?
For humans to not be ignorant.
Trapped, wrapped in red tape.
Chained, handcuffed by snakes.
Identity forgotten with languages replaced.
Wondering what would it be like?
To work together instead of fight?
Wondering what would it be like?
If instead of focusing on the dark,
We’d focus towards the light?
To reach out for hope that is in our sights.
Breaking away from chains that took our might.
Tearing off the hateful words,
That has made us feel like *****.
Wondering what would it look like?
Once wrongs were made right.
Wondering what would it feel like?
To be accepted for what I look like.

Misrelating Tale
Gotta prepare for war, like I’m Daniel-son.
Train every day with that wax-off, wax on.
Mister Miyagi flow, that hits like a Jeff Hardy Swanton Bomb.
What has the world become?
We unleashed the sword,
So, what was done can’t be undone.
But what if this narrative could be un -spun ?
Would we right wrongs?
If we rebuilt foundations,
Would our nation remain strong?
To return a triumphant king like Aragon,
Or be stabbed in the gut like qui-gon?
But as def squad says we’ll continue on till the break of dawn.
For this is the way of the mandolorian.
Some days one gotta switch sides,
From the autobots to deceptocons.
Fighting foodons, blasting brains like I’m jimmy neutron.
A Lightning nuisance, that’ll static shock the electrons.
That may interrupt ones...
Constant flow of info from dendrites to axons.
After the battle is won, grab some schezwan.
Project soul of foul human individual cretans.
Not everyone can be as polite, as the bear named Paddington.
Gotta call the ghostbusters to extract some Thetans.
Rest In Peace to Egon.
So...
When **** hit the fan, gotta know how to swim in the deep end.
Treating each failure like it was a lesson.
Everyday I battle against anxiety and depression.
Let’s just say I know what’s it’s like to feel less than.
Got my heart crushed like some croutons.
And have had to attack on my inner Titans.
And just when you think I’m defeated,
I go super saiyan.
Schooling it like I’m Piccolo and it’s Gohan.
Let’s go son!
I Will never lose my head like a dullahan.
For I ain’t got not time for 99 problems.
Gotta open the third eye to see past illusions.
Got to change the qualities of the composition.
Keeping stressors relatively small no matter the opposition.
Gotta emphasize the light like you painting an impression.
On everything and everyone that may come along.
A perspective can turn curses to blessings.
Can take one’s trauma and use it as a weapon.
To change the cycle of ones disposition.
But that being said,
One can’t predict everything like the Simpsons.
For the world’s more controversial,
Than the ending of the Jefferson’s.

When good faces evil,
You get one intense battle,
Eyelids trace intents of cattle,
Placing weighted content that’ll,
Shift resilience towards the peaceful or deceitful.
It all depends on the type of people,
That contends genetic designs of primal,
Adrenal glands that defend against the lethal.
That could stem back when our moms had labour.
And whether or not they harboured,
Alcohol, drugs or other stressful factors.
That can affects the hand one has like a game of poker.
That can become dreadful detractors,
For children once they grow older.

As one wanders closer,
One has to wonder,
What fatal gates await,
Will they reach Aslan’s place,
Or end up in motel Bates?

Who decides good and evil?
A gang in the hood is stable,
Until police are dispersed from the snitching of a weasel.
A burst of betrayal that leaves brothers in jail.
Got the weasel on the run, alliances have sailed.
Trying to find ways to cut off their rat tails.
Getting a witness protection detail.
So, I ask you is that good or evil?
I guess it depends on perspective.
Is it wrong to survive by being deceptive?
Doesn’t everyone have a selfish incentive?
That drives them towards their objectives?
Or is nature or nurture that determines genetics?
What if you committed a crime,
Because of being neglected.
Products of environment,
With freedoms unprotected.
Is it their fault or societies fault?
I guess it depends on your perspective.
So...

As one wanders closer,
One has to wonder,
What fatal gates await,
Will they reach Aslan’s place,
Or end up in motel Bates?

As each lunar cycle turns,
And the full moon appears,
An ingrained fear draws near,
For the moon affects the waves,
And humans are made of 60% water.
So, it stands to reason that it affects how we behave.
Piercing hands of demons creates wolfish knaves.
A slave to a phenomenon that leaves some depraved.
Time to get some meditation son.
In order to be saved,
From that primal nature, that turns us into simpletons.
Got to maintain some discipline,
In our own personal synagogues,
Or just exercise to attain some serotonin,
Got to rise up to the occasion like a totem,
Creating shenanigans like Pippin.
Got to enjoy each moment,
The skies like a membrane component,
With wind flowing like verses from a poet.

This is the Moon mood,
That fools won’t tell you,
Got to find the tools.
To discover what is true.
Like you Blues clues.

This is the Moon mood,
That fools won’t tell you,
Got to find the tools.
To discover what is true.
Like you Blues clues.

As the lunar cycle turns,
The nocturnal beast yearns,
A carnal desire that starts to stir,
So, ya best be ready for some super *****.
For I’m in a mood like a typhoon,
Imma bout to consume,
You in the bedroom,
Don’t need no costume,
Give ya a gorilla press slam,
Like I’m Gorilla Monsoon.
Cause I ain’t no boon,
I’m dripping in doubloons,
Ready to explore her tomb.
That why my girls so good,
At shining my harpoon.
Got me wanting to finish her,
Call me Ed Boon.
Blame it on the moon.

This is the Moon mood,
That fools won’t tell you,
Got to find the tools.
To discover what is true.
Like you Blues clues.

This is the Moon mood,
That fools won’t tell you,
Got to find the tools.
To discover what is true.
Like you Blues clues.