...Julius Ceaser (The Lost Man)...
Fuck, I'm here in jamaica s'pose to be enjoying my self,
but you're on my mind-twisting and ach'ing my heart,
this been going on ever since I decided we should depart,
I don't think that was smart-and the effect is-its tearing me apart.
Now I'm thinking, I should reach over to the nearest phone,
and relax myself by listening to your sexxy voice tone,
and connect the times we had that was lost but forever cherish,
but it seems that ever since we let go of each other-it all perish,
burned to ashes, Now I'm picking up what's left-Black Dust,
that don't signalfies the taste of Love- I'm tired of eating the crust.
My lips still feel you're wetness presence-now look what I'm kissing,
the 2 worst ones and that is envy and pain, that's ripping
me into sections that's leaving me out in the open-catching infections,
that got me dazed and losing sight of the road of life-I need directions.
I'm trapped in the abyss and I need someone with a care heart,
just to open his/her palms, help me up and push to give me a head start.
now I'm going to go and walk near the beach and feel my tears flow,
and hopefully someone will feel my dying heart while the wind blows..it away.
I feel lyke a fish on a black cloudy rainy day and my emotions got me
hooked on its bait,
and I'm struggling and twisting dying just to fade away back into the ocean man.
.
.
Poetic Killer (The Lost Soldier)
I see my end drawing near, i cant control myself, sombody please help me
I can see my oncoming fear, a loss to my health, sorry that you cant see
My family starts to cry, this war has just begun, and I cant come back home
My brother Aaron brings up a sigh, grabs his gun, says that I'm not alone
I helped my country to the end, I died in with a name, he trys to end his life
He cant let go of an old friend, Bush is to blame, so please try to servive
My home burns down, my brother gets a lil more tough, gets a new place
Mom and dad underground, Aarons life is getting rough, hes a disgrace
Prays to me for forgivness, I tell him its alright, He drinks away his sins
He recieves a new sickness, hes always in a fight, stays at cheap inns
Needs a family but has non, there for as no reason to live, but why?
Sits down drunk holding a gun, trying so hard to be forgived, I cry.
The ways he dies makes the angels look away, even I get ill right away
He'll be up in heaven in a couple of days, so much I have to say
The things he had to deal with, were the tests given by god
Yes he is real and was never a myth, Bush is the only true frod
And if you want to get out alive, just fight for your life
But if you do not want to survive, dont put down that knife