I find it hard, putting pen to paper
Poetry will be the death of me sooner or later
My mind still fucked, chasing images of dreams
I shut my eyes I can't sleep, I can't feel
I find it hard, putting pen to paper
Poetry will be the death of me, sooner or later
Searching inside to define what's real
But what I find ain't exactly ideal
Why are we so fucked
We lead our lives through blinded eyes
If I can't see it then it can't be happening
Save me, save me
From this misery
Help me, save them
From animosity
You didn't think this would catch you up one day
You didn't think we would ever know
You've built your walls up 10 feet tall
But now the cracks they are starting to show
You didn't think this would catch you up one day
You didn't think we would ever know
You've built your walls up 10 feet tall
But now the cracks they are starting to show
I find it hard, putting pen to paper
Poetry will be the death of me sooner or later
My mind still fucked chasing images of dreams
I shut my eyes I can't sleep, I can't feel
Segregation sucks
How can you hear me
With your thoughts elsewhere
How can you hear me
With your thoughts elsewhere
Can't sleep I feel fucked
How do you sleep at night
Go lock your doors up tight
Does it make it alright
If we concluded your life
How do you sleep at night
Go lock your doors up tight
Does it make it alright
If we concluded your life
We bury our heads in the sand
Claiming innocence
If we can't clean up our act
Our failure's imminent
Hour after hour, day after day
We stumble through this world of decay
Rose tinted glasses cover our eyes
As our so called media fabricate lies
Centuries of this and the stories unfold
In with the new and out with the old
Keep your head and up I'll show you the world
Wake up and wise up to what you've been told
Wake up, wake up
To what you've been told
Wise up, Wise up.
To what you've been told
Stumbling around inside my own head searching through the darkness
Trying to find, the real person inside to paint my words like an artist
Why do you use metaphors just say it as it is, just talk to me
Your subliminal lies aren't doing us any justice
Justice, justice
I find it hard, putting pen to paper
Poetry will be the death of me sooner or later
My mind still fucked, chasing images of dreams
I shut my eyes I can't sleep, I can't feel
I find it hard, putting pen to paper
Poetry will be the death of me sooner or later
Searching inside to define what's real
But what I find ain't exactly ideal