I have fought so hard- for what? For walls at the turn of every corner. There is no way out but to excavate against brick n stone hoping to find gold that people rarely ever do, smoking my cigarettes to a rhythmless despondent beat- finding nothing but more rubble. It could be worse, I think. I could working this maze with broken legs or a broken brain, the latter I'm not sure if I haven't experienced. You can't live under me and God, you can't live the way real people actually do-- real people experience hardship, and they experience not being able to live on bread alone but every word that proceeds from the mouth of God. You have ur shit to feed u, while u break spoons right in front of my face. No ones ever been so cold, no ones ever been so misinformed about me.