yea...
I wipe the tear from off my cheek,
and prepare myself to speak,
spit preach to the mic which I grapple from beneath,
hold the stand as weep,
shaky hands, burning feet,
confess my plans and ambitions over melancholic beats,
my mind, it never sleeps,
I'm forever in too deep,
so I treasure every moment like its the last,
I try postpone but its past,
whizzed by in a flash,
so I'm lost in emotion like a man lost at sea,
I battle waves, thunder storms and even summer breeze,
ice bergs, lost mines from world war past times,
and attempts to lift the anchor leave me drowning in my rhymes,
now I know that its my time for me to face reality,
but each time surreal surroundings over power me,
in the midst of it all, I can hear dead friends call,
so I try to escape but fall deeper in,
into this bottle of london dry gin,why cant I win?