Meta. Convicts first collab.
Thomas and Westbank.
Birth and Childhood
Awaking in a crib, lights and people surround
Making unusual connotations when I start on the ground
As I grow a lil older, memory of being a baby becomes distant
It used to be crawling; now Elementary school is my persistent
Meeting new friends and running home off the big yellow bus
I’m now in 3rd grade and my life is rolling in a continuous rush
“Tomorrow's middle school”, I cringe at my mothers’ words of true
Then just sitting in a quiet class with ppl but in a realm of alone to subdue
At every school year, I always hate the beginning, but then get attached
Now its high school... Drama, Girls, and looking fresh not to mismatch
My life is spiraling quickly; I’m almost out of school and left no clue
What to do when I leave resides my mind in a congested construe
Senior year…It’s good to be almost done, now its time for the real domain
But I graduate with no clue, leaving my dreams at a paused disdain
Adulthood
Business is just money, and in return their both the same
Staying financially well and having a family just to maintain
Being young was thrilling, but the world is steadily knocking
From getting kids ready for school, to the New York stocking
I never thought about getting old, it used to always be so far off
But reality hits home when you feel excruciating pain with every cough
“I’m half way thru my life”…My mind releases scary visions
Ever looming health catastrophes causing painful knife incisions
With ever growing age comes more responsibility tasks to behold
My parents used to plan and over watch, but tis my life left to unfold
Wife and kids look up to me, I just have to be the perfect model to role
With each New Year brings happiness, but raises my deaths toll
Being a kid, I couldn’t wait to grow up, now I can only look in the past
Now being an adult, I wish to be young again and for it to ever last
Old Age and Death.
Knees weak with arthritis whilst I paint green veins
Arteries strike a purple & nausea holds the reigns
Dusty old chapters chatter to fill my empty time
And dusty old chaps fill empty glasses with wine
I dine in an old chapel whilst shredding old flesh
Meshed bones loosen up & muscles fail the test
It’s in my own interest to prayer with lead beads
The priest reads prayers the man heeds stares
Then convulses whilst in conversation of his sins
Sins from past days & sins that last days in grey films
He chokes blood & stutters spittle yet save the shame
Priest listens, not a kin he only plays the religious game
Dying form old age released from a soiled cage, he stops
Finally, time ends & his personal clocks end its tick-tocks
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