I think what really kills me

is to see a guy pour out his guts

about how hard his life is

how committed to the struggle he is

and how much conviction he has

(with his daddy's trust fund)

I could really learn to get behind his success

if I just ignored that he's a rich man's son

I grew up poor, I grew up brown

so I'm Mr "What a big ******" when my thoughts came out

about how I have hopes for a brighter tomorrow

or that life's too short, we're on a track that we borrow

So now I hear succinctly that there's guys who say distinctly

How they're fed up with the system and they hate the gender binary

They're enlightened, in the know, and they're really having fun

Because this **** is easy when you're a rich man's son.

Oh, so I grew up in a small town

A suburban uncultured brown, public school GPA high

That's nice, I like how they let things slide for you guys

getting high, dealing dope, chilling with weirdos

and not the weirdos you know, the kind with emotional, physical, and ****** hangups

and not "wee we're so ******* different"

Because we never got praise, we only worked with a backdrop

Hoping maybe someday we'd get the key to the padlock

But it doesn't matter you say, there ain't a place left to run

Because it's easy not to care when you're a rich man's son

It's always the ones with power, the one's who hold royal flushes

Who say "money can't help you, I feel so out of touch with"

all the nature that I have the money to afford to go visit on a whim

Because the world is an oyster that I have yet to sink in

While I'm hoping for you, you get the point when it's done

That not everyone gets the chance to emote like the rich man's son

I built my kingdom from my grit; I'm not a rich man's son

I learned that no one gives a ****; I'm not a rich man's son

I've no promo but my mouth; I'm not a rich man's son

I've got the battle on my back, I'll be a rich man, son

I've formulated my attack, I'll be a rich man, son

I got my loving back on track, I'll be a rich man, son

If I want to stay intact, I'll be a rich man, son.

Your father loves you boy, so you're a rich man's son

Don't care if I can't have the toys, cause I'm a rich man's son

My father loves me to the death, so I'm a rich man's son

"Dad life is pretty hard, don't think I'm having fun"

"Jake, you've got to make yourself, I don't care what the other kids have done"

"If you can only do one thing, and yes I only ask one"

*"Be the best at that, there's ever been, will you do that son?"

Oh, so you want to be a writer?

You've fashioned yourself a little world independent of the rat race

You've steeped yourself in craft, in how to spin a phrase

You know that you could "speak truth to power" for days and days and days

Oh so you want to be a writer?

Oh that's nice, are you aware that it's all been said before?

Oh not with you because you're different? Oh how could I ignore

With such a compelling argument from someone who I've never heard

You've really got me hooked on your every single word

So if I listen will you tell me how I can live my life

or maybe give me another parable to make this all more bearable

Make a mantra that is wearable, or something incomparable

Just like all the ones I've read in my studies

Oh someone liked it? Oh I suppose it's probably derivative

Because you're working with themes, freethinking probably prohibited

See I'm the guy who'd say you're unoriginal for painting with red

Because all things are stemmed from other things, I want all frameworks dead

Why is there structure? You're repeating words on the end rhyme

Let me guess, at the end there's gonna be some clever end rhyme

to keep your verbiage in time, to spicen up the headlines?

to give it another direction defending pretending to benefit people by lending a second inflection preemptively bending in time to the beats of the hearts of the blended?

You're clever, you rhymed something multisyllabic, electric your voice, saying "**** the volt I am magic" not grounded to reality you've claimed to be Zeus's mortal form inhabited

Simmer down baby you're on a roll with yourself

I wonder how long you think it'll be before you break the mold

of pretentious defenders of needs and false interpretations of dreams

You had a dream about music, well I guess we can see what that means

"To dream about Disco suggests you need to be more sociable"

Have you ever stopped to think it might just mean "where did the coke go?"

"To dream that you are in a musical suggest you need to be careful with your emotions"

Because musicals are for sissies, ya da ya da grab the lotion

Stroking myself is my greatest profession

Because I'm learning about me, yes I'm writing this for me, and the only voice that I can have is authentically my confession

I can sell you an image and hope you can relate to that

You'll interpret the meaning, and I'll hide behind the praise while I sit back

I'll let you watch shadow puppets while I'm doing my dancing

I can build up my world, I can hold you entranced in

I'm breaking too many fourth walls to have a building to glance in

I want to give some expression, I need to show you what I hid

*Oh yeah, that's nice, are you making any money at this yet kid?

Yes I saw the truth in the hillside freeway

In the grilled cheese sandwich

for sale on Ebay

With tortillas and butter they called me a ******

Because I saw the truth in the eyes of another

Who decided to feed me a line of such rapture

That captured my stature of pragmatic backed banter

Gathered the trappings disbanded, I could map out the standard

Wanting the pattern, the vibrancy frequented

Masking the latency, the reader obsequious

Addressing the nuance, ignoring complacency

Significance amplified, convinced of this elevated

Power to axiom, entropy celebrated

Wax to a fault with a message converted

While the layers of encryption serve to hold this position

A raw disposition, hoping to see beyond this decision

I can't see beyond the scope of the eye with conviction.

the sun sets with much disdain for the morrow; the wind, stale with defeat, whispers echoing clandestine guilt of things never meant to be.

the heart burrows deep unto solemn internal recourse, bound by flame and disgust, pleading to be set free and seen - to no avail

where does the mind go when the heart can't see? where do all the gentle words flee when there is no feeling left of hope or love?

to beseech is to abstain - they never listen. begotten by the ignorant, time seems lost in itself. where there was doubt, so came the demise of hope.

seek anew, rise above the pain. listen, speak, learn. the pale, sultry face of redemption is close. my savior and kindness. sweet humble voice of reason: save me from this doubt. your eyes speak to me and your mind drives the curiosity within wild with passionate conjecture.

you may be closer than you think