There is something uncanny between the juxtaposition of the ghetto and the soundtrack of folk
All I have done is attempt to run away
...To revolt and to revoke
And between us, it was I who betrayed
I tend to dwell from the bottom of the vile
All powder pigeon-ed in black
I ask you a question, and you sit and ponder about how I apparently beguiled
And so you took the reigns and pulled back
I think all is better with the lights out
I left my soul in the ice box
Unfortunately, I am prepped for this world's inevitable drought
Thus, as I move forward, please illuminate me, and perhaps give me some props
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