Antonio Wooten, Jr. - AT WAR WITH LIFE lyrics

I'm seasoned for the season I'm here for a reason Let's be real I ain't sign up for this show, y'all invited this heathen It's as apparent & clear as a gangster with (tatted) tears That it's dirt on my shoulders & it's supposed to be there Know that the rapture is near (Know that a spot in heaven isn't free) Know that they k** out of fear And the next body is me As far as I can see If the body guard not positioned where he supposed to be: that poster child gone catch a few His momma cry, his body bleed And he was nothing but an innocent seed Planted for purpose not paper Because they choppin' the trees And spillin' blood on the leaves Before they even SEE what it means… to grow up… Before they even blossom a leaf (k**in' the offspring) I'm pleading them to be left alone But they catch me looking sideways And interrupt the peaceful route home Leave two in my dome And blam, news report: ANOTHER BLACK KID GONE. (Checkmate!) [Who watchin careful over me as I scribble my songs?] Who's policing the police? I seen news feed of bodies layin for hours in these cold streets But we more consumed by new songs & what's fleek Forget ya Instagram Because the instant, perpetual motion of racial hatred Making me grow impatient As I ponder militant Malcolm's mixed syllables 'bout overcompensation of patience and hospitals filled with patients Overflowing like the jail cells Who say that we'll never make it. My good side been vacant The angel on my shoulder grew wary of my conscience Because it didn't coincide with the consequence. Bad judgement got me feelin' right It might not end that way But that's the price you pay to live life I came to learn ain't no wrong and right Because I left my house thinking I was alright Before they gave my mom the call to say 'he's not coming home tonight' And ain't no bail payment that can revive his rights Because they took his life before he could even approach 'em nice In this game of life, you either dying or you living Let the latter be my decision But they trained to shoot with precision So the bullets in my direction were never designed to miss him They more like kin to missiles The canon blow & the bodies just come up missin' It's mystical how much evil entraps me And the never ending cycle of d**h can no longer attract me My attention span is just as American as the clothes that enwrap me Made in China by a Mexican who'd prolly spit at me The lack of truth in my speech is probably frightening Can't decide if I'm catalyst or victim of capitalism? But maybe the choice of choosing alone just allows me to be labeled another -ism The divides lead to masochism Like Ma**as with mulattoes, whose conception is hidden But if the dark comes to the light Why I'm at war with life? Why the reaper poking at me with his knife? Why I see nightmares in broad daylight? Why the questions I'm asking even questions at all? Why I question my faith. Why would I compromise my position for the decision to speak my mind, with no guarantee that they'd even listen? Maybe it's sanity that I'm missin' Maybe the only mistake I ever made WAS to make a decision Maybe we all nostalgic Maybe a father figure was missin' Maybe I was my own man Maybe I had my own plan Maybe this isn't for me And maybe this isn't meant to be I hope we learn soon enough before we become the end that we see… I'm now regretting my infatuation with destiny And because of that I might not ever rest in peace Because I'll be too busy living eternally.