I just like to live this life of mine
And take some time
To kick back on a quiet day and get to rhyming
See I don’t floss
My neck isn’t dripping wet with diamonds
I just compose with ease
And use my toes to dance upon the ocean breeze
Catch a flow so cold the roads could freeze
The words are just a metaphor for where my emotions lead
Hopes a dollar
They pushin’ pain for free
A generation flush with cash and cream
You can’t cash morals in the bank it seems

Asleep at four
Up at half past ten
Creativity ignites the wick
Self-doubt burns it at both ends
Scrawling darkness on parchment
In hopes the tip of this pen
Will breach the cover of night

Do I struggle for shekels
Adoration and a handful of precious metals
Or to steal a smile
From the sturdy heart of my inner child

“Your writing is pitiful”
Endlessly told
Hmm not original
Maybe I should go back to being criminal
So I could write a verse worth a ****
And say some **** you’d want to listen to
Or I could get political and start breaking down words like indivisible
Funny word in a country where half of us walk around invisible
90% of what I write is ****
So when I call it toilet paper
Just know I’m being literal

You see what happens to my mind
When I just sit back and unwind
My attention span becomes thin as twine
As this stream of consciousness accelerates the passage of time
And punches into hyperdrive
Before I know it
Half past 5
Blood shot eyes and not one clever rhyme