I woke up today, and the Earth was still turning.  The sky is still up, my home is still here... the world, in all its splendor, still hangs silently in its little corner of eternity.

People are angry, spouting all kinds of vile words towards their fellow man.  They doubt their place in the world.  Yet, the world keeps turning.

People are scared.  They don't have power, and it's getting colder.  They don't know when things will get better, they just hope it happens before it's too late.  Still, the world keeps turning.

People are sick and dying.  People are losing loved ones.  They're incarcerated, they're unemployed, they're in trouble...  They're staring down the end, they're staring down death.  Things are tough all over.

But the world keeps turning.  It turned for eons without us here, and when we are all gone, it will keep on turning.  All empires rise and fall within its revolutions.  Any mark we leave on it will be lost to time and tide eventually.  Many hundreds of thousands of years passed without us and many more will pass after our departure.
So think REALLY HARD about our place here.  In the grand scheme of things, we're a really small part of the story of this planet.  You can choose to believe that it doesn't turn without you, that it is "the end of the world" when things aren't going according to YOUR plan.

You have a brief time on this planet.  Spend it on love, not hate.  Spend it helping, not hurting.  Spend it reaching out, not retreating inward; because after all, we're here for but a few breaths... why waste them?

It's hard here on the ground floor, surrounded by the street.
The scenery a still-frame, a cell set to repeat.
But I don't see your colors now, that patch of blue's gone gray
I hear your laugh cut through the crash of just another day
Time, again, finds us alone...
in the crushing nothingness of the crowds
I just want it to be gone
Want to shed my shadows among the clouds

It's quiet here in the recent past, reliving a silent beat,
An echo too weak to distinguish, yet still moving the Earth beneath my feet.
Still the subtlety's hard to decipher, the nuance is lost in the stroke
I numb any phantoms that linger, the world is cloud of smoke.
And time and again, it pulls me through
Running headfirst into hell.
Full circle, it seems, in whatever I do
Stopping just this side of well.

It's fleeting here in so-called prime of this distraction known as living
And I haven't asked for more than I have, but I'm taking what they're giving.
A single spark in the midst of a fire doesn't seem to warm the soul
But that same small flame can change the game if you add a little coal
We're hardened now, by time and heat
The pressure's always on
But maybe, when our time's complete
We'll be diamonds before we're gone.

Crazy?
Maybe. Possibly.
In spite of what crazy's costing me
I can see no reason NOT to be
just a little bit crazy.
It takes a lot to amaze me,
but I'm amazed for days
at the level of insanity
disguised as vanity
that I see, individually portioned
smothered in bigotry and
dispensed freely, thumped
out of various ancient tomes
and called Sovereignty.
Crazy?
I was crazy once.
Invited Jim Jones out to lunch,
and I threw him a couple bones
dared him to spike the punch.
And his reply was hazy,
like a busted eight ball.
Something told me that guy was crazy.
But what was really gone
was how they all gathered on the lawn
to egg him on. Didn't dawn
that they were going to go
too far til they were gone.
Nobody caught on.
Crazy?
Yeah, just a little bit.
I'm what happens when the fan
hits the ****.
I've hit this **** and that, a bit,
and held the smoke of a thousand
miscreant rips, scales tipped
til we slipped out of the tray,
a gram shy but well on our way.
Hey, put that **** away,
the NSA is on the phone today,
and they hear you coughing,
keep coughing that way
and they're going to put you away
in Guantanemo Bay,
and there you'll stay,
for forever and a day,
or until you roll doubles,
or have the money to pay.
Monopolizing the cheap properties
with new hotels every day.
Crazy?
That's a matter of opinion
and in this day and age
opinion is public dominion.
Digitized before our eyes
and with a simple keystroke
we've broken the fourth wall,
and every imaginable flaw
has come to be our downfall,
gliding through reality
at breakneck speeds
then crashing into the firewall,
before we fall, right down
into the cold, hard ground
around the feet of what used
to be called discretion,
that is now open confession
coupled with cries for attention,
but don't mention criticism,
that's a schism! and we all want
to go down in flames together,
thick as a brick, but brains like a feather.
Crazy?
Yeah, but what can you do?
Look inside your mind,
I bet you're a little crazy too.
We're all just outright animals
in this ***** human zoo.
I'm a **** chimp, it's true,
I ain't monkeying around with you.
Just chilling, killing time,
instilling madness in the rhyme
to keep my mind refined
or just stick a finger in it from behind
stroke the cortex, bless it all,
now I'm blind!
I must be out of my mind.
It was a mistake to think
I could take a headache
out without some serious
long term repercussions.
No more discussions, as I've
left myself with a fingerprint
and a concussion.
I'm feeling a little lazy...
Crazy?

Why yes, utterly

I want love like I've never had
Where it feels so good and hurts so bad
Long nights and long fights and we make up
Come hell or high water we won't break up

I want love like it used to be
The kind'll make me forget about me
Somehow my feet never touch the ground
And people wonder why I'm never around

I want love like a fairy tale
You know the old story fairly well
No matter what else we get into,
Love as one, can't be split in two

I want love that's just like me
Comfortable in my insanity
Take it easy as a rule of life-
I find that, and I'll make her my wife.

It sounds like a broken record
Feels just like a revolving door
When another tin-star soldier
Explains what somebody died for
When both sides are crying "justice!"
But when all things are complete
There's another broken family
There's more blood out in the street.

And there's nobody to answer for
The systemic elimination
Of innocent black men and boys
Across this old and broken nation.
When guilt is predetermined
And last resorts become reflex
A whole race of Americans
Are forced to worry "Am I next?"

You don't have to like the truth
In order for the truth to be.
You can cry out furiously
When men in protest take a knee,
But if you deny the evidence
When the truth is brought to light
Then, you're a sucker or a liar,
Either way, you're just not right.

I'm tired, my brother,
can I just take a minute?
I know life's a struggle,
you know I've been in it.
But fighter or not,
time has taken a toll.
More often than not,
I am NOT in control,
I'm just holding on,
that's the best I can do.
So gimme a minute,
or maybe a few.

I didn't stop moving,
when the world fell apart,
and I helped dig the grave
where we buried my heart.
I've been on the front
since I learned how to stand,
and I'm still taking shots,
though it's not what I'd planned.
Don't judge me too harshly,
I'll still do my best-
but I won't be worth much
if I don't  get some rest.

It's harder to sleep now
and everything aches.
I know I'm not special,
and that's just the breaks,
but I'm tired of doing
"whatever it takes"
and I'm tired of living
with all my mistakes.
Just give me a moment,
to break down and cry.
I'm not giving up,
I'm not ready to die.
I just need a breather,
in a minute, I'll rise,
for now, let me sit here,
just resting my eyes.

This is my paper.
This is my pen.
These are my knuckles,
this is my chin.
This is my deep thought,
This is my muse.
This is my rhythm
this is my blues.

This is my front door
This is my street
These are some people
I'll never meet.
This is my corner
This is my block.
This is my culture
This is my shock.

This is my city,
This is my shame.
This is the scene, man,
This is my game.
This is my future,
This is my life.
This is my blood, Cuz.
This is my knife.

This is my one truth,
This is my fact.
This is my promise,
This is my pact.
This is my chaos
I'm taking back.
This is my heart, son,
Under attack.

This is forever,
This is all done.
This is me crawling
When I can't run.
This is me bursting
To flames in the sun.
This is my bible,
This is my gun.

This is not hello,
This is goodbye.
This is where hypocrites
Go when they die.
This is the nothing
That I owe you.
This is the curtain,
This show is through.