How many times will dimes define friendships of mine,
It sounds funny but it ain't about money with me,
You see I perceive to achieve more than the frailty of materialism in society,
Intergalactic seed, pragmatically freed by insensitive deeds,
Disenfranchised by what so-called friends idolized,
Castaway souls sway in conscious disarray,
Ashen automatons of clay,
They lay in limbo all their days coveting lifeless goals,
Hold onto the cold, content to grow old in their droll matrix cookie-cutter roles.
I don't need a car, 20 talents in a jar to determine how far I go when my fate is in the stars.
Keep looking down on me, you say I'm bound to be,
A nameless mound in a cemetery.
Hey it's all right, I don't need to cuss or fight,
Please children of the green disease have a good night.
You just might yet regret the actions you have set into motion,
Can't figure out the quotient that is churning inside of me,
I don't hate you, the fate you create is one I do not hurry or abate.
Every faction learns their actions hasten a retraction, a steady course to the source that normally ends in dumbfounded remorse.
Your well-camouflaged depravity cannot penetrate the gravity of conscious cosmic stuff that has had enough.
I am emotion, devotion, pain, strain, not harboring disdain but singing outwardly a harmonious refrain.
While your mojo wanes my energy gains and continually remains.
Please feel no need to abstain from what has worked,
I know it has come with perks,
Don't shirk old habits they got you here.
And they have brought me so near to being without fear and to be able to see more clear the taunting silent leer you carry.
Despite your blindness I will kill with kindness.
