My Brother (from another mother)
He was a beacon of light and hope. Inspiration dripped off him.
Life interferes with greatness.
He stood tall, creating lyrical music with ease.
Genius with rhyme schemes, a genius indeed.
With a heart of purity that always spoke truth.
He was the gentle giant of my youth.
Life interferes with greatness, a genius indeed.
His life was taken, at least in theory.
A bullet through the forearm. He lived.
The light was snuffed out, along with truth.
Voices raged inside his head, he believed
everyone wanted him dead.
The last day I saw him homeless, prophesying the end.
A new beacon of dark and death.
_________________________________________________________________________________
I've been there, on the verge of homelessness,
and I've seen my friends fade into the background -
Black and white is just grey.
A dull grey - violence was everyday.
We're all the same, we are the same.
Black and white is just grey.
Individualism is non-existent. It's a pack mentality,
society ostracizes those who are different.
Black and white is just grey
It is no different on the street. Burnt skin, stupidity -
all just to fit in. Bullets had names and dates.
It's always a drought, it never rains.
No colors - no light of day. Just grey.
Is it any wonder so many people are not saved?
It's always a drought, it never rains.
Broken records - original? yeah, right!
There's nothing new under the sun.
It's the same drought - it never rains.
No comments:
Post a Comment