I told them I was tired of being local, and they took me as a joker
But the punchline of that is I'm the only one with focus
You try to vouch for peers, but some people turn into vultures
I meant to say voucher, that you receipt after a purchase
As some people purchase purpose; ******* in the end coitus
Still it was a moment you had enjoyed that introitus

Some do feel small inside; their inferior interiors
Not so big as it appears. Just masking hopes with years of fears
Spill a bottle of fine wine on me, and my lesser many me's
Fine dine around a table of my Lord and my enemies
Spit fire of the scolded tongue, but dire in response of having fun
Over the moon joy with a heated anger under the sun
Not all reach a ****** of their fun—still waiting for it to come

In the third person of the third stanza line
They didn't know me as a first person describing I
I'm that guy routing for himself in the ways to walk by
But the GPS was off to the location, and I have no WiFi

In the cause of this morning rhyme, it seemed fun to write
Mixing a wordplay in every line—I've got a childish mind
That child inside, wants to live freely but how in this adult life
Where being yourself is a crime; so you're a person of omission
As they won't see you for as you are, if you don't follow they vision
I guess I'm supposed to be chasing women, and calling them *******
Lined out naked perfectly on some exotic beaches
Placed on the scales of fame, I'm must be swimming with the fishes

The only time they'd say I left my communicative ways of being local
And a yes to having their focus; get rich and buy yourself a lotus
Smoke some flowers, while deflowering flower's with a magnum opus
As that's the art of the world's composer, I try to keep my composure
Breathes in I'm just most certainly tired of being so local
Perhaps I'll die in the crowd to be considered folklore
But I remain local