I asked the Lord how to fucking deal with life.
He said "ask your father, he knows me and
what exactly is and is not right.
I don't have time to field night calls
and small balls, have you even read my book?
I'm a chef, not a short order cook."
I asked my dad and he said,
to paraphrase,
"Nigga, ahn?
Have you read His book?
If you did you would know
what you should be told.
You shouldn't need me.
All I had to do was make sure
your compass was set to He."
Scratching my head rolling out of bed again.
How the hell am I not dead again.
Spiritual bureaucracy,
are they both mocking me?
Fuck 'em. I'll figure this out.
I'll treat everyone as if they were my own.
Old or young. Deaf or dumb.
I'll love the way the book does not dictate.
Cut this life up like a three layer cake.
Whatever you believe,
believe in me because I have no allegiance,
I have no higher power,
I am not god and
I am not king
I'm just taking care of you
because you are
beautiful to me.
