5800
After four long years of being lost in a wood
All that remains is the lil kid who could
He's heard he can, thinks he will, knows he should
He's got the guile to get to God for good
All the while each thought's ticking away
His gift's gotten stale, he's in a slump to say
The least he's a beast with that piece of the play
But the rut he's been stuck in's in too deep today
As usual, he use the will to plot and scheme
When he should be writing rhymes, the kind to rock the teens
Put the other projects down, he's got to stop the dream
Before his whole life passes, curtains drop, and scene.
So he's, back to the pen again, the headphones, the searching,
Digging through debris for his original version
Built it from the ground up, he's wound up but driven
Discovered how to break out and, make a decision
bleh
