It's week 2! What do you do...
It's a Sunday, it's the one day you can sleep through...
But I won't... no I won't... no I don't, I don't... sleep.
I'm a face this reality head on.
If I die I don't want to be dead wrong.
I'm a live this life right live a nice life
And when I fly I'm going out headlong.
I'm going out like the Viet Cong.
I'm going out like Soviet bombs.
Strong, and for a cause I believe in yet,
I don't want to leave in regret.
I'm already too deep but I'm headstrong,
Each week I'm a keep making progress,
You can call me obsessed with getting a front step,
But I'll carry on till our red dawn.
Songs, for the bleak in mind.
Strong lyrics don't grow weak with time,
And I'm putting my rhymes onto the bench press.
Do this exercise when I vent stress.
I wish I had a wish, like my dad was rich,
Or the God of this world was like Shenlong
And all I need to do is collect a few pieces,
And tell him what I want them spent on.
Peace, in this alarm and greed time.
When all we farm is greed I'm
Trying to bar a way even when stars start to gray, and we de-climb.
Shred on, until your fingers stop bleeding, and you're the one being bled on.
The one living right so he won't leave, being dead... wrong.