waking up at night, not understanding the pain i've caused nor indured.
that was post battle before i start my own war,politicians playing with life like a show.
im not trying to get political in my thoughts but life is always the right we must post.
post mortem i hope my memory will be more than a failed tree with beautiful fruits.

darkness in my heart may stack above the sky, but for sure my rebellion will live on ,
nights of desperation and regret just to light up the same ol' cigarette in the saloon,
the past's hunting all day and night for a trophy to hang above the "wall" in his cocoon,
i want to be consumed by the fumes, letting my failures become the autoimmune fuel,
my will to prove myself as a sour soul turning to his hidden jewels so the devil gets a pistol to his skull,
internal battle made the angel brutal towards the sinful who are hitting the single faithful,
the table of the good and bad is surrounded by bombs ready to release in absurdity.

one day i am so happy to fulfill my own prophecy while in the next i look for the exit,
everything moves in tandem for my vision to change from green to grey from skit to script,
post portem everything might seem too much out of touch for us to really keep the wit,
the only part thats really alive in your body is your soul the rest is a part of the future casket,
contrasts left and right for my own to design, pushing the buttons of life for the rabbits to see.

subtle emissions as i start the boat never skip praying on my own oath,
i read the texts in life always seemingly encrypted just like a messaging app,
the real show is beginning behind the curtains somehow being trapped,
the actors are going to play a better hand, we only want the real champ,
essence of ones life looking in my eyes surpassed my mind like a dreamland,
believe in the expansion of your quintessence, command the battle like you're protecting the motherland.




dug up my ditches you can feel the innevitable switch of a persian prince watching time,
rotate the key, press on ignition and your library will burn but rebuild unlike the one in Alexandria.

in this world, my powers might be limited in some areas ,
but in my manuscript from inside i feel like the egyptian kings when i touch your hand,
would sway with me and let the our minds combine and lose time?
cause even in my wicked ways i always succeed to say goodnight.



racing is the hobby in my heart and my insatiable desires for love and hype
will not let me touch the floor, see the plan and speak the goodnight

another year has passed, as cliché as it sounds, we look forward to new times
you might feel emptier or happier, even angrier,my advice remains, don't even stress
even if with our differences, one thing's for sure.
we have less time



so cherish the ones you love and give justice to your ideas full of herculean hope.