How I started as  a ***** boy
To become a street ******* bohemian
Because my pain is effected like a widower cries out in hope.
I struggle within my tracks to be king  of  hope,
Money and fame keeps me off the mind of a widower

How I started as a ***** boy
Working  not against the cries to be known as
Optical mind is  not stupid to be understood
how everyone treat me like a nobody
seeks  help from an unknown shadow.
they classified  me as one of their  beggars.
When money wasnt  my target .

How I started as a ***** boy
They sees  me as a man inside  a female profile
Fills with grey hairs  inside my pocket
And only my hand could pick them out,
As I walk helping  life
I just felt like  Am dead


Im dead and no ones could feel me ,
The last rain  drop could not really define my life on a lion bearing
That ,the definition of my square multiplication , I hate it
And new ,I could be proud  that I fellow these people ,
As I wake up ,
I deserved
How my life has been without a way out

I deserve to be dead,
Dead as I am still dead
Grey hair faded away without my knowledge of my struggle
I’ m dead.