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Week 3, 2017

I'm staying up late nights
Like life might change if I live each day twice,
But I still feel the same... as the new day breaks.
Time is eight miles an hour and only I'm to blame,
I keep fighting my fire why do I douse the flame?
Don't have a raging desire to make life so I write,
Wondering what I have a raging desire to make.
Still feel I'm resting on the edge of my nest and need to take flight,
But why fly away when every way's the same.
And I can't tame the skies, each day's bright light,
Fends me off like I'm an owl made to cowl and game nights,
Do I live the same life? As you or that lame guy?
Who's cool who's the great wise student of science and faith, I?!
What's my name huh? (Hi.)

Am I different person?
Is the world worst for me or do I simply make it a worse one?
I'm so tired so vain sometimes I need to train to breathe,
Sick of complaining of my aimless needs,
My shame and grief, I go out estranged scared to change,
Not in shape to greet the dames I meet.
Only I'm to blame. How did I stray this way?
I go to work and play live lies
And take it day by day,
Week by week I feel weak through I know
There's a me unique, grieving to break free,
If I just sow to speak, my flow like wheat but...

My soul reeks it could use spring cleaning!
Used to feel nobody's word but mine had meaning
Now I'm not certain of me. Where did I meet my demons?
In OOOM? How did they convince me to see this screening?
In my room, sometimes it's all so unreal...
But I know I'm at least not dreaming.
I walk looking at my feet, or looking in the distance,
My whole existence is crooked like a thief.
It's week 3 and I felt like why even...
But I won't quit believing! One fine evening I'll open my eyes
And I'll see things! Till then I'll keep the beat. Through these darker seasons.
From the beginning to the end till my ends meet, work hard and then I can play again,
And by then free. Week 3. Bob Axell. The emcee.

Stop pretending. I'll be spending. I'll be senselessly leet never-ending can't nobody beat me!


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