Me John Conde

I'm either deflecting and rejecting Or accepting and connecting I'm attempting the correct thing Or expecting a correcting Got to to deal With things directly Or conceal The things that get me Behind a sheild I think protects me Like what I feel Just Don't affect me And my feelings are like ceilings They're always there but out of Reach When I could reach them From underneath them I'm prepared to walk the streets Every rhyme it has a reason But the reason probably Just convenient, for me to speak when There's a chink in my armory I don't examine all my madness And it's like nothing in my brain But if it had been re-examined The assumption they would make Is it's both magic and it's tragic Both productive and insane How I could grasp s*** Thats so gigantic But miss the stuff that's plain as day To believe in something or nothing Is nothing I'm discussing Because once it gets discussed it's just a discussion that gets redundant And I'm reluctant to follow instructions All instructors get interrupted and if there's one thing You must remember Is not to be a trust dispenser