The Real You
Suffering love – I know that is my life motto,
Losing everything, but still I win like a lotto,
Tears flow from my eyes, making streams in hidden grottoes,
But still I stick to the beat heavy, staccato.
On the waters of the Void in a perfect storm
But shining bright, like Freeza in perfect form;
Out on the deep, no boat, but I’m stroking.
In death’s face, I’m jokin, high like I be smoking.
Stay by me, locin, Lord you know I want to wild out,
But I’ll endure the pain like a man, take the child out,
Purge me with hyssop, melt me with the holy flame,
Break my chains, set me down, clothed and wholly sane.
You let me break my heart into bloody pieces;
All my false selves runnin’ free, I’ve lost the leashes;
You speak to me and say “Let them go, and then let me heal you.
Fall into my love, and I’ll release the real you.”
(“locin,” pronounced “low-kin” is a gang term that means “going loco”)