I was a painter in my last lifetime,
now I write rhymes like I fight crime, living life blind.
trying to find peace..
with this girl on my mind that can’t find me.
watching Amelie, hoping I’ma be the one that she finds,
can’t keep living life in rewind,
I used to fast on the hog, now I eat swine.
and can’t stop smokin’, though I keep tryin’.
in these times when the peace of mind is not a goal,
it’s a grave.
I be racing to it, holding hope,
rejecting change, cause the pain feels realer than the pleasure.
rocking sweaters when the weather’s sunny,
funny fellow from the yellow.
but I watch so many foreign films, I feel foreign
every morning cooking full course meals, like I’m starvin’.
hardly say grace or say “thanks for another day,”
even though I’m grateful, I try to show it in other ways.
I used to give bums change, ‘til I changed.
kind of strange ‘cause I’m richer than I was when I gave.
got a gang of friends that I don’t call or hang with,
even though I know they on that same shit..
shit, I must seem like I don’t dream at all.
my mom says that I should draw again,
but I don’t want a pen.
I just want to live, have kids, buy a crib like the old days..
whatever happened to those days?