This heat is trickin me out, I can’t feel my feet
Visions in my mind – but not reality
Actually. I see. Back to A, end at Z
Locked behind the prose, imagination is the key
My visions are written upon casual indifference
Differently dissin’ your un-listenin, my words
Make an appearance, like in court, my ball
Don’t fall. But your cataracts will make you lose it all
I shed tears on behalf of the people in my city
Inwardly I’m wishing to free them from their enmity
Animosity just scoffs at me, like are you kidding
No I’m not. This isn’t heart funny. Seriously.
My heart is dead serious to push away the death
To uphold life, and lay its antithesis down to rest
I’ll be that visionary. I’ll be that radical.
Cuz all the rest of the revolution agents have gone on sabbatical