This goes too quick, at times I miss those I swore deserved fists
Reminisce of a youthful liquored bliss
Dulled pains of poverty
We sacrificed innocence dealt with daily anxiety
Hoped for future riches
Mangled an already chopped sentence, just to make something ours.
Child with distant eyes smiles as he sips from life, tastes all sour.
The meek that await power have no concept of time.
Now at this final hour I consider the value of rhyme.
Wasted breath or a testament to the down-trotten?
The apple that Adam ate was found rotten.
At the worst of time I still find my head nodding.
This Boom-Bap tapped subconscious synapse that this pen's jotting
Tattered tongue spits,
It's not a song but a collection of miserable thoughts laced with wit.
Don't give a [bad word] if you find me mildly entertaining.
Look around we got 'nuff minstrels in training.
My verses pertain to that [bad word] we all feel in gut.
World's [bad word] 
So now what?