change

yo, streetlights guide my path, straight blurry, tryin not to fall on my ass, just my physical a small price to pay for the mental, i told em id write to it, so they put an instramental got, nothing but love for my world that im building, one day ill be dead playin wit the blessed children, cause im a, come back a prophet to the world that has existed inside my head before i first wrote a word or said, my mission statement, ill be here facing myself, for all eternity, i wonder if i'll ever see all those who felt me, but truly all every reactions an implosion of self, that we impose on our selves, so i know, that one day my paradise will arrive, but what then, high off the change, that the toked smokes providing..awareness.
in parralel universe awakes my soul, those who behold offer platinum and gold, to the demons who await there weakness, taking control of crowds, crowd control mics blaring, the shine from beneath my hazel eyes glaring, never sparing the life of those who would steal from the sparrows wings, i fall back in my thrown, drunk head on my chair
is there really anyone there..?
or is this world just a mirage of self
its the only common sense answer
either that, or we really can end eachother with our flares of anger
either that, or we really are mortal, and we're gonna die
picture that, the vengance on god from mortal hands, to kill and let blood be shed before we dead
ha'
high off tha changes