Monday, November 9, 2009

I walk a mile in my own shoes, crowned the king
in the name of the father, let the sermon begin.

They're observing again, watching my mind spin
watching how time turns enemies into friends
and friends to enemies. Why do they envy me?
Is it because I emcee? Break into social scenes?
How do you mean?
Of course I missem but I had to disem all, self-hate is not my mission. Nope.

I'm just a man, doing the best I can, doing the best I can, I'm just a man.
I might fall short but I love the unseen hand, love the unseen hand, love the unseen hand.

Sometimes I ask myself, I ask late at night

Who am I using
Who is abusing
Who
is he choosing
Who am I sleeping on that I'm confusing
Who is my muse, she probably plays the guitar
probably four dimensional, probably lives in bars
So many scars

Young black boy in my room, made my style animated, called my style cartoon, betcha pump.

When you're driving up the coastline, your closed mind exposed while the sunshine design......

I'm just a man, doing the best I can, doing the best I can, I'm just a man.
I might fall short but I love the unseen hand, love the unseen hand, love the unseen hand.

You better believe it. Do the hustle. Keep it real. Rain down on me.

2 Comments:

Blogger Maurice said...

do you have a moustache?

November 11, 2009 at 7:28 PM  
Blogger Michael said...

Yes

November 25, 2009 at 9:39 AM  

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