2030
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In a Texas tornado match without a tag partner.
Handicapped by my own unselfishness.
Blowing with the winds of change, deranged to think
I’m sane after everything I’ve overcame.
Play the game. Write down expressions but never exaggerate—
Also never elaborate.
Uno, solo dolo..Marco without a polo.
If ever hesitant to take a chance,
Just turn the clock back and yell YOLO.
Why not though? Everything is a lie and it’s right beneath your nose.
I suppose if you ask the U.N. the same questions,
You’ll get a list of all the souls they’ve sold.
Crap shot, shoot the Darien Gap, watch the structure collapse.
Commit treason for an underhanded reason.
Take the sovereignty away by the region.
Control gone.
No one wants to read and wake up.
So it’s not the blind leading the blind, it’s the blind
Breeding the blind because
Everybody who encompasses the theory of relativity
In such a way of connecting the
Dots to what I’m saying is either not large enough in numbers
Or already dead.
I still offered my assistance and care to those who left me on read.
Still gave away my last when I didn't have anything left but a piece of bread.
While everybody sits back arguing over who’s better between Clark and Reese.
While everybody fights over pigment like a color of skin makes any difference
Of the struggles we’re in.
They’re burning down the current structure to make way for
Building blocks and chains to create a problem you won’t have an answer to.
But guess who does?