I am a dead man walking A mute man talking A blind man watching Our brothers die And I've built our coffins Much too often It gets so dark when Our mothers cry I know more than I want too But not nearly enough I thought I was writing for the love But it just turns to be lust And my trust in us was gullibility The reality is just that I'm not who I was Nor who I will be But sometimes I feel me visiting And I fill me with the lush scent of soul The flavor of feeling The rush of color I think the pleasure will k** me The pressure squeezes and spills me To the language of the unseen The unthought, and the undreamed And my heart begins to pump The thick/ rich/ fluid of verse Searching for a simple word or phrase To fill the phase between The wet nurse and the black hearse And I know sometimes my words Lack worth Lack depth Lack gerth Lack the distance to travel from Heaven to Earth Or from mind to brain Or from soul to flesh I hold my breath in the hollow hope That my hopes ain't hollow It's just a message in a bottle Or a genie in a bottle Or a wino and his bottle Or a baby and the bottle The symphony of me is stuck in staccato Like a broken/ break beat/ Breaking the vinyl into Bits of blackness spinning in circles Come down Selecta Last night the DJ took my life But left the speakers empty And the speakers speechless And the dancers still Dancing or not They don't see our music as musing Merely amusing amusement How could they know in Basement booths We've balanced the nexus between The soul and the flesh And the science and intellect We rock genius like a necklace We drop j**els in gutters But they fooled our mothers Into thinking that they could raise sons In the darkness of night But isn't the night always dark before the sun is raised? And when the sun is raised Doesn't he make the block hot And the eye squint And the breath sweat And the tree grow And the children play The raised sun makes the pavement see The wavy apparitions The mirage of the future But I know I am a dead man walking A mute man talking A blind man watching Our brothers die And I've built our coffins Much too often It gets so dark when Our mothers cry So now I'm walking the thin line Between love and hate Between words that are spoken And beats that break There's a thin line between A bullet in the chamber And the bullet in the brain I'm civilized, sane, with a little savage in me There's not really a little savage in me Just a lot of pa**ion in me And sometimes the soul rolls Outta control without a gla** of rem'y And some people are fine with being slaves Just as long as ma**a's friendly And let us spit fire into match Until the mag' is empty You don't need to pa** the cem'y To know there's a little a**a**in in me Just know There is no soul taken accident'ly The angel of d**h has an itinerary Snatch you right outta your Bently Right outta your Gucci jeans Right outta your Fendi Right outta your dashik' And right outta your Kente Allah has written in his book And there is no erasing the pen's ink So why do we ignore what God knows And rely on what men think We're just boys in the backstreet Just tryin' to get in sync But my balance is off My talent is lost I've married my art, but She's barren of course And I hear in her voice that We're headin' divorse So before I hear em get caught I may have to k** my dreams and Bury the corpse I shed a tear for the loss I feel like I'm bearing the cross My conception was so far from immaculate For the most part We're just a bunch of ba*tard kids Our fathers are gone Caught in the cycle of sadomasochism Because our lives are dead wrong But resurrected like Lazarus Cause our mothers are strong And our romances are just about As romantic as the master's kiss But we have got to move on And our lives are about as painful As the master's whip We have got to move on I wish I could sing for justice But I know no such song I know about Shohada Solat and Koran Jihad, martyrdom, and homemade bombs I know you think I'm wrong For talking about homemade bombs But the leader of the free world Can drop A-bombs and napalm And got the nerve to ask “Why do they hate us?” When they still got the blood on their palms They stay long And sing songs about freedom and justice All bloody day long And claiming they're right But they've got to be dead wrong And maybe I'm just too drawn And head strong And now I'm ready to run head long Into enemy fire It's like we desire d**h I just got the same blood that Pumps through a lion's chest I come from a line of warriors Who take off the iron vest Unsheathe their sword And sprint into the thick of the mess I am begging them now Send me your best! There are two possible outcomes: One, I could send them to rest Or two, they could send me to my lord I like the second one the best I will k** the k**ers who live I've settled for less Because I'm already a I am a dead man walking A mute man talking A blind man watching Our brothers die But I won't build our coffins And I will not take part in The d**h of my heart's kin I would rather die