Suddenly we refuse to get right and choose to point the finger left to the Fast Lane.
Ain’t no such thing as half way crooks, you scared to death, you scared to look, you shook. Are you that afraid to make a change in your freeway? Ashamed to pity the fool that is in front of you? Be called a mockery because you have too much bling, and yet have no money to even drink Mister Tea?
You know you will be called a fool, and look lame. All for the fame and the fortune, so people can scream your name. With this life there is no commercial break. Existence is like 24 hours of reality TV, you will never see your Dreamscast on this console of wretched TV.
We never see are our dreams at the pace of genuine life. The treadmill is on a snail’s pace, with turtle dreams in sight. Alive yet so foul we forget to take the 2 free throws to get ahead.
We shoot, we miss sewing up our expectations in hoops instead. All we do is sin and grin; fail to stay upright on the balance beam of life. Never getting a perfect 10 on our life routine, under the pressure of power we have lost the equilibrium. The level isn’t off; you’re obese because the scales now penniless.
All the excuses and complaints you brought to the scale left you scrawny like skinny jeans. At the weigh in you’re caught up in the ring by the right hook of the devil to have you down for the count like Sesame Street, one, two, three, ah, ah. Can you make the bell toll; you fell to the depths of hell, not another counterfeit idea of yourself to sell.
No more God to help you back on track with Diego, Dora and a rescue pack. Causing your own 808’s and heartbreak will give you mad spins around the world for radio play. Take your foot off the chit-chat, to grind your minds gears to mettle in affairs that we never there for your constant worries or cares. Submit your driver’s license and let God drive your spirit, take a backseat on the slope of rebellion, and shout out the true answers, someone also might need to hear it.