Some days I feel.

Some days I feel like I wanna steal.

Some days I cannot even look at myself in the mirror.

some nights I fear.

Some nights I imagine water is beer.

And when I choose not to hear,

that is when it is most clear,

that a meteor couldnt move me anywhere.

I’m a stake pounded into concrete, 

my feet can move but not real far,

not real soon.

Im so stuck.

Im like a fifty ton truck with no wheels.

I could kill for freedom, 

but I’d be obliged to imprison myself forever in my mind.

I might just spill my own blood

trying to be whatever it takes

to break a fool into giving me a break.

I’d take a rash over cash,

because a rash would distract me from trance.

I could blast and blast like fire ants,

and last and last like sticky pants.

I could laugh and laugh by smokin grass,

enough grass to apease the mass.

But freedom is the only thing that is worth my time,

and time is all I got. 

If I had one more minute I’d be rich,

wealthy beyond belief, 

but I got time free of freedom.

And If I were placed in a kingdom named Weed ‘em, 

I wouldnt get high enough to fly away,

and free my self from this rusty cage. 

Some days I am here.

Some days I am not. 

Everyday I wait.

Everyday I pray.