From an Lt to my motherfucking General,
a message to be my motherfucking heneral.
I look up to a lot of motherfuckers that don't deserve it
and you are one of the sonbitches actually swerve it.
Making the move and the choose and the two twos
that actually make the world move underneath foreign feet.
I don't know what it is that makes reel real, but I know
what makes kids beat their feet.
It's hard not to squirrel out and pride myself on being
a some kind of self made man. Cuz if I had enough arms
I wouldn't have enough hands. Birthday beatings and
shit in a can. Pop the top and drink like
suburban bullshit skins to mask what asks.
It gets rough and the times went tough and I wish
I had an alcoholic dad. At least then, things would've
been explained, railroad tracks pointing the trains,
but they didn't and they weren't and I live with
mystery. Phantoms of an age I can never understand
and music played from an unhired band. I rand
because I want to. Because I need to.
Because you will never be fifteen years back
where He was.
