I sip on carbonated dreams, and burp disappointment
Where alcoholics sell potential for a bottle of regret
With “2” much oxygen, it's a “placebo effect”
Just…remove a single atom, and we can make this a threat
So, when carbon one-oxygen flows from my throat
Jus turn the volume up, roll the windows up, and toke
…which just -might- explain why Hip-Hop died
He rolled Wisdom in my written and asked for a light…
He puffed, puffed, passed and told me to get right
But, caught up in reading, I lost four minutes of my life
While women stare at coke bottles for inspiration
And dream of men staring with hopes of perspiration
Searching for stereotypes amidst aspirations
While some search for Life in an Aspirin bottle
Setting fire to expectation and possibility…
I’m amused by the smoke-shapes traced in burning dreams…

I’m not looking for forgiveness; I’m looking for a resolution
I’m not looking for “I’m sorry”, I’m looking for a solution
I’m not looking for fans, I’m looking for a revolution
I’m not looking for reparations, I’m looking for restitution
I’m not looking for how, I’m looking for “know how”
I won’t settle for “some day”, I’m looking for right -now-!
Now the auctioneers are children at show-and-tell
With slave-block opportunities to cubicle hell
Discouraged to reach for anything higher than college
Taught to lean on Affirmative Action and live with blue collars
Like we got too many entrepreneurs, athletes, and authors
And need to slow down on the astronauts, billionaires, and doctors
Stereotype rappers, but they’re the clothing industry
Holding sway with market value, while surrounded by envy
Hip Hop is so “hip” that even white kids “Crip” (walk)
And being “functional” is dissed…isn’t -that- a trip??

As the dysfunctional diss functional lives
I portray a trap as seen through the escapee’s eyes
The encouragement to reach out for a 9 to 5
As though it’s too hard for blacks to reach for “the sky”
Like teaching sight reading post 1965
When it was disproven to work 40 years before…
Nearly forfeited my future among fallen angels
Who refuse to acknowledge Halos askew…
When it seemed that my destiny was insanity
I survived off of bong hits of eternity,
I drink deeply of the poisonous taste of her “love”
I have learned to survive, and even thrive on it
I’ve traded spittle with derision, tasting death on her tongue
I’ve been bitten by deception…the venom left me numb
I turned my back to the world and showed the tattoo in warning
With my head to the sky…asking God for the morning

…

Let the brilliance of His wisdom pierce the darkness of ignorance,
ending the nuclear winter of the fall-out of bad choices
As His warm, embracing arms mute the gloom of despair
Take your burdens to the Lord and just…-leave- them there…
Amen