Midnight cruising,

using city lights as stars, and abusing the history under us.

As we sit downcity we wondered does the dream die if the people do.

I been thinking as your ideologies slipping from your roots,

I can see when your weak like a tooth.

So if the nation is misguided like youth in apparent, 

Would it be the youths fault or the parent?

For the inevitable future coming,

fire starting, oven heating, Revolution coming

Are you heron this?

 

It's been a while since a color person got a beating.

They keep testing, with the arresting and other propaganda.

But I'll dismiss the elephant in the room so as to continue with the clowns.

For it truly is a circus,

white wigs and red noses everywhere I go.

 

We turned onto street morphed by what side it was on;

wondrous city building marvel, or taxpayer "home."

The ceiling of our ground vehicle had to be put up so as to avoid bottles

thrown at the color of my fellow friend, driver.

Thrown at his daringness, and audacity of his exact location at the moment.

We were just trying to scavenge enough time, to hear my mixtape bumping for once.

For the wind to hit our scalps, and rip away the heat and pressure of societies.

Minding me, a little too much of you do ask me,

but it's past me at this point.

So we linked music with the burger joint and got out for burger, joint.

Fed our empty spirits then went on to continue cruising.

Loosing a morale of hype,

for fruit of big city dreams was past ripe;

And wrinkled kindling flesh under past things.

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