Ever Great

Where were we in that past life? 

 

This is no run of the mill fast life

 

Getting up around seven and getting back past nine  

 

Enough to make the irrational type  

 

Practical  

 

Living above our means  

 

Means nothing  

 

When you were never given the chance to grab life  

 

We're suffocating and fighting 

 

To adapt we've learned to gasp right  

 

We don't even need air at this point 

 

Committed no error  

 

Still they wish to blare all of the noise 

 

In hopes to disparage our voice  

 

Still we rejoice in our youth  

 

Though from the fountain we pour  

 

Rains down poison  

 

To our bodies and to the resources we store 

 

We stay cold and report all of the wholesome facades 

 

All in fear of the day when we begin to look like Allah 

 

And maybe some of it is true  

 

And some of it's law 

 

But we can't escape the fact that before we rest we must starve  

 

Are you full of life or full of yourself?  

 

A lot of these starving artists are in need of some help  

 

Help yourself, but if you were eating with God

 

would you be mad at the fact that you were eating with God? 

 

I don't even need to or believe in a God,

 

but I believe in what I got to be a piece to be brought 

 

to the table where they'd draw up the peace keeping plot  

 

Instead of letting us hang on and look down to see where

 

the rest rest in peace from this fraud 

 

Fraudulent is all it is, they've called it quits.  

 

Life is a game and they're saying that we've lost all the chips 

 

Weight on my shoulders makes my body stiff, trapped, and positive that the only way to finish the movie would be to collect a lot of clips 

 

But I've come to gather that they've locked us in  

 

I could not fathom all of the dollars spent  

 

They wish to distract us  Lucky for them I want the same for my mother and father  

 

We're taking losses but we never started with options 

 

So I must be an investment  

 

And never the martyr 

 

But then I look back at my stacks of dollars, move on, pop my collar,  

 

I gotta' do what I gotta'

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
My country
Our world

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