This goes too quick
At times I miss those I swore deserved fists
Reminisce of a youthful liquored bliss

Dulled pains of poverty
We sacrificed innocence dealt with daily anxiety
Hoped for future riches

Mangled and already chopped sentence
Just to make something ours
Child with distant eyes smiles
As he sips from life, tastes all sour

The meek that await power have no concept of time
Now at this final hour, I consider the value of rhyme
Wasted breath or a testament to the downtrodden
The apple that Adam ate was found rotten

At the worst of time I still find my head nodding
This boom-bap tapped, subconscious snaps
That this pen's jotting, tattered tongue spits
It's not a song but a collection of miserable thoughts laced with wit

Don't give a shit if you find me mildly entertaining
Look around we got 'nuff minstrels in training
My verses pertain to that truth we all feel in gut
World's corrupt, so now what?