Resident Existentia

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Lucky Valentine

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I'm in the parking lot again
You know
It's the usual
Listen to the traffic, take some notes
Involutional 
Question my attempts to make a quote 
Non-delusional
Lessened by events, Anecdotal
Not a crucible

I digress
My pops is under stress
I start the summer best
By making mother feel depressed
Address 
The threats
Euphoric in my chest
I simulate success
By pumping meds in great excess
I guess that struggling is best to coalesce
With such finesse 
I find the traits that I possess 
Can make me feel like I was blessed
 
And yes, nevertheless

I feel I've been oppressed 
The world will only press
That's why it's such a fucking mess
They told me life does not caress
It only forces to undress
I guess
The rest
Are happy in their nests

I can treat you like a guest
I brighten days I am fluoresced
And yet I feel I must confess
I'm always trying to impress
And now you know that I'm obsessed
You know I do it best 
You know I don't do games
I'm through with playing shit like chess
I told you motherfuckers not to say what you suggest
If I could make a change I'd pump the beat behind my breast a little less

It's all a test
It's all a test

I can't complain unless I offer a solution
I'm prone to pain to give your God his retribution
I've flown with fate to find I've fostered institutions 
Tell me what your truth is 
Youth in revolutions
Proven to be ruthless
Human traits of hubris
Try to find your name and hatch a plan to make improvements
Know that you can do this
Live through these abuses
Sit among the people even if you didn't choose it
I am sick of the influence, nod your head agree congruence
If you see me on the TV I'll be nothing but a nuisance
I am talking like I'm fluent 
In the language of the truant
I was always late to school
My prudence wasn't for the students
Hang my sins up like I'm Judas

Motion with the movements
Burn up all my fuel to put some purpose to some music
Work is therapeutic to the hurt and the confusion
Every now and then I tend to blend my words with my illusions
Till I'm left in my seclusion

And god damn, if you catch me on the wrong track
Tell me 'bout my Cadillac
Bowie on my soundtrack
Homies in my backpack
Call me an amnesiac and feed me forty Prozac and sleep inside my Pontiac

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