As my focus carousels from one pleasure to another.
I’m building up a tolerance that wouldn't please my mother
or sister, who went through, a whole heap of trauma.
Thanking God that she aint someone's baby mama.
But see that's my problem, never looked in the mirror.
Never thought I had an issue until it became clearer.
The deeper I searched, I discovered the concealers.
The deeper I searched, I discovered the concealers.
Hiding behind a smile, but underneath it was shame.
Thought it would bring me joy, but the birth was pain.
Fighting with yourself just because of repression.
Only way to find peace inside, is by confessing.
I asked Solomon if he knows
Any new tricks the system has planned for us,
but he told me that-
"behind the scenes these closed doors,
closest's full of skeletons and lads tapping:
straight paths and chest cases hidden:
booby-traps, too opening-roofs concealers
By glass tops all the way the top;
Massive crews dressed in black and blue-
waking up from head knocks to tales"
Journeys so we tell stories...
The Sun and moon,
Gold crowns and silver tiaras
Man and woman: To kings and queens,
Higher power and the sky full of thunder
Stormy weather for beginners;
High mountains for winners:
Boys and girls playing swings and slides,
The world of grades and higher states,
Status for those cues...
Straight line for those goals...!
Long roads and tunnels,
Coupes and trucks:
carrying loads Of hard-work,
deep slumber to hard-knocks,
headlock to arm strong...
Kneel, kneel, kneel for the world-
Your Highness: your dreams,
A weird tale, odd story since I have beaten the odds.
What's the probability of prosperity?...
Does the world define your fate or
do you create your own destiny?...
I shall ask Solomon.
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