I don't fear the labour
check the dirt beneath the finger nails
sweat stained shirt, and amnesia when talking the word fail
you can’t feign the fame
yet they fan the flame so i train my brain / in the tiger snake and crane / the more wisdom, the less gained
if measured down to the change
the kind that jingles in your pocket
and that which rings within yourself(?)
during the evenings, around sunset, i get flashes from past memories
serves up a slideshow, like a wide eyed nocturnal rain forest creature
old country kid in the city for the very first time, i'm hypnotized by the soft glow
in my mind's silver screen, ready to sit back and recognize the sequence of events, that led me here
although the way they're presented will play like a dream
surreal as a painted desert
condemned to wander, through as an immortal, [bad word] by nothing other than my footprints
you can only make so many before the storms form and erase the way that you came
forced to do it [bad word] take a trip, down memory lane
my? more like a pot-hole riddled highway, divided into four sections
save social business and stay with it, and these potholes i'm down to fix it

i don't fear the labor, check the dirt beneath the finger nails
sweat stained shirt, and memory lapse when [bad word] to the meaning of fail
you can’t feign the fame, game is to train my brain in the tiger snake and crane
incase i got to fend off them raps, snap like bear traps, besides that
it’s a better form of meditation than other methods i'm aware of
and deserves my dedication
even when I’m not makin records i aid in my music's preservation
exercising vigilance
watching for poachers and posers
supposedly could be the opposition
listen
that’s the sound when i drop words to rhythm
nod in my direction, we going this way
been collected to help correct the foul play
our magnetism will leave [bad word] in disarray
(disarray)

intuition; into telepathy
when we speak, you imagine me
act like I’m talking
that voice in your head has my accent
indistinguishable [bad word] 
I’d whisper work it for the world,
hurled through space at the speed of speech, blast off!
lookin like a slacker, wander like a prophet, labeled as a rapper for lack of, something else to call it
i tend to return myself to the cycle upon his request(?)
but best when i'm at my worst like an alcoholic
no longer faultered
by the force
and not opposed, to thinkin awkward
beamin off on a random uncharted course, like a lost photon caravan
seeking a retina, still attached to a person to validate my excursion
i'm just another incarnation of you, that’s the reason we can move to this in unison
and if you choose
find a leader to take me to