Twin drops of sweat
perched on his brow
Salt mines
the butcher's
blood-soaked smock
reeking knife
poised...
feverish to finish
the lady's order
his tear-stained chop
wide of the mark
with writers block i feel like im locked in a curse
like im lookin at a clock that doesnt work
like a paramedic that cant stop all the hurt
then i sit and think whats it all worth
look at a bottle of vodka scared to touch it
my family are drinkin that strong
look to the sky like wheres the justice
aint none so i get pen and paper and put my thinkin cap on
i look at everythin ive had to go thru
friends are like alex we miss da old you
youve changed so much
i aint changed i had to grow up
wise before my time
if u think ill hide in thge dark
you are wide of the mark
truth lies in my rhymes
look in my room and the lights are off
sittin wit pen and pad in height of what
when u rap u spend most ur time with writers block
tell me i wont make it i will fight it off
u can continue to hate
cuz i keep dreamin
and keep believin
so u cant stop me acheivin
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