Respect Pt. 3 - Jel

Banging rocks together makes sunshine

Banging heads with rocks 'till blood comes: the writing process

Everything has diapers on and smells like

It’s time for a change

Or some holes in the flag

My whole perspective relies solely on questions

That can’t have answers

Like everyone in their assumptions

A big pigpen driven by dead dogs;

If that’s your site

Put up a superhero with a better pokerface

This noble cause reeks of self-gratification

But it’s more like no satisfaction

So if I die

Tell 'em the fessin' go to college

And all the writers go to Heaven

If you wasn’t born on this planet

Blame the World for being there

I’m not assuming responsibility for everyone lost in the shuffle;

My whole philosophy is based on moodswings

Limited attention spans and an expansion pack for everything

Am I feeling it?

Mostly full of it

Selling my cuts for the art of it

Placed all of my faith in these heretics

We’re all future presidents;

Nobody knows it yet

That’s the beauty of it all

Welcome to my desert island

The weather is glorious

Take a picture

(No one reads the articles)

I need music with texture and

Someday, a happy meal

Rude awakening after rude awakening

I’m asking y’all to be polite until

I match the blood on the battlefield

With the gleam in my eye

If I could make it stop raining

This whole damn place wouldn’t know

What to do with all the sunlight

I’ve been saving up for a life like this

Your God is booing you offstage

And your heroes don’t respect you

It’s all in vain and can’t be bought:

Hung from the ceiling and often attached to the first thought

She gave me a handshake full of empty promises

And now I’m thirty minus something

Plus I wrestle demons down to the ground in my spare time

It’s a new day

The pigeons no longer fly yonder;

They make rappers out of messengers and text from all the classics

Meet the archangel with two minutes to live at all times

I hold a mirror against a mirror against a mirror against a mirror

What I’m saying is:

Word is deceased

Work is slavery

They’re saving asses for the big layoff

Where they lie you down to take it like a native colonized

By search and seizure

The grass is always greener and when you make it there

It dies (if getting there don’t kill you)

And the people there don’t share

This is what your bones will sound like when they play 'em in space

If I could make it stop raining

This whole damn place wouldn’t know

What to do with all the sunlight

I’ve been saving up for a life like this

Your God is booing you offstage

And your heroes don’t respect you