Lucid

Now if his life was a masterpiece the devil owned the gallery His salary had never been enough to burn the calvary So hourly he'd pay his dues in every single verse It's just at first he'd seek diversity, a curse resides in thirst And still he'd drink it in, innovating and compensating For every absent thing in his life, he's mic disintegrating Educating, illustrating, animates decapitation Lead you through recovery, reopen up the laceration Trigger mental masturbation, pull acidic critics down Grimier than New York city's finest in the underground Time, another noun intangible and oddly shaped A colorful vulgarity to coincide for now escape So his tape represented everything he ever saw What he learned, how he felt, painted on a fucking wall For everybody to see it, for every person to listen Cause while they all claim to have it He understands what they're missing So he spent all of his life and dedicated his time He's confident with his speech but concentrated his rhyme He's fascinated with time, but never let it confine Him to a lesser power short of divine They remind him that he's human, but what does that mean He'd simply disregard the fact, proceed to walk in his dreams The world is not what it seems nor was it ever at all He only hopes his contribution helps humanity fall After all, that's what it takes till people get what they're missing They've gotta be affected so directly that they all listen And only then will they christen this life that's never been used No longer obligated or sedated, never accused You've had you mental abused and your mentality's tainted At the end of the day, you've had reality painted by a Single man with the stroke of a brush You either stare at pretty pictures or get of the bus I made my pick, I kind of like the art So hypocritically I have to sacrifice my heart And what I know, even if it don't make sense The tricky part is me pretending I'm at all convinced, ain't that a bitch