I fell asleep rhymin, tell me what the time is
this melody’s mine, and I shall be fine
as long as it keeps playin, I’m liberated
and drift away to – a different state, it’s – Palm Beach, I’m a Haitian
the dawn teachin me patience, thank you Lord
so long asleep, then awakened – for today’s reward
for every mouth – of doubt – I got a canker sore
in a fight with a ‘tard, I’m the side of a barn,
still couldn’t figure what you were aimin for, maybe self-preservation
so if you felt reservations – just call me Crazy Horse
you just hardened the target, sayin nay is war
I’m just guardin a garden – with a flamin sword
wallet in my front pocket, what do you take me for?
nothin, Paul has come knockin, the one you been waitin for
from son of a Satan spore – to someone our Saviour Lord
summoned – to the summit – at sun-up, thunder the cape He wore
thankfully, He gave to me – sound cancellin headphones
I visit graveyards – and go around tramplin headstones
so prisoners take heart, like Medivacs on helipads
losers don’t belong in your future, so tell em that
while you’re yellin back – over your shoulder, send em a telefax
to hell with the past – and all who held you back, a welcome mat’s
been laid before your feet, in front of the gateway to your dreams
don’t get upset – or sweat – what takes place in between
that’s just the plot, but don’t plot, your plot’s – been alotted
by God, and it’s not in – Sodom – where Lot went, you got a – deposit
within you, it’s not always obvious but continue
and let it go, there’s not any cockpit up on a missile
stretch your soul, do some Yoga with your focus
don’t be double-minded, you can’t have your yogurt with a donut
I underline it – then I overbold it, somethin’s missin
it’s tunnel vision, don’t undermine it – with no explosive
you blow the hole and the gold’ll be overflowin
becomin Midas, so no more brokers
I’m thinkin in ingots, I’m Spain spankin the Incas kindgom
I’m the truth in the Booth, so I’m not plinkin at Lincoln
I’m Reagan, you’re Hinkley, I’m just sayin, I’m David Brinkley
award-winnin reportin, somethin in my brain is hinky
cuz I don’t write with an inkpen, I write with an inklin
over the skyline – of your mind’s eye, at night when I’m twinklin…
© 2011/2012 P/au/l Will Prevail
Ain’t it beautiful?
404, baby.
OUT