Prophet to preacher as we pray in dismay
Hope won’t reach deeper nothing different today
Lifting arms is cliché; raise a hand if you pray
And know God or whoever's never seen on display
It’s like two in the bush and one in the hand
Three if they can flee without making demand
But none is more fun when you run without plan
Detours and hiccups mend leisure suit pickups
Running with gunmen son do your own stickups
Backtrack to touch-up what you done fucked up
Lessons are rough but some eyes never lookup
Naive to believe a heart attack on a sleeve
Seams cross an exhaust and bypass to breathe
Chest heaves and weak knees rattle the frame
Words grieve as veins seize blood flow to the brain
Heart pops and dream stops - all one in the same
Running through alleyways screaming out a same name
To retrieve and reprieve life that never overcame
A shame and a pain the owner didn't want to claim
Whatever's clever, weather gets better all around
Clouds start to form - pressure starts to die down
Rain drops make time stop and turn my frown round
Water the crops so the brain stock can rebound
Because getting up is just the same as getting down
Inverting aerosol and avoiding drips on the crown
Insane to paint pictures of pride on the ground
If you want to keep up you got to learn to slow down.