On A Quest From
The lyricist takes a look at a mental journey assessing the situation of the world around his influence. With a question in his mind he seeks for an answer he already has but haven't figured it out.
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HOOK
Sometimes I wonder & ask myself what my lyrics are all about
Seems I'm spinning & tilting from the axis of my centripetal weight
I ask myself what my lyrics are realistically centered on
Seems I'm rotating & cycling on velocities that are foreign.
VERSE
So how do you tell your story to someone when no one listens?
How do you communicate to people when nobody listens?
I'm sick of these thoughts that's why I use writing as a therapy
Half poet half lyricist my hand knows how to mix a remedy
Don't pass me pills because I know how to pen a positive prescription
Paid in full & split in half then paid attention
Paid the price like a monthly subscription
Im a shepherd in wolves clothing with a cottonmouth
Apparently my genetic fabric isn't cut from your flock
I might not engage to the depth of your resonance
But my biological make up is undoubtedly intense
Despite the cataleptic revolutionary desperation it isn't enough
I turn a smug into a smile on the face of Smaug as i laugh
Breath smoke, eat fire, drink flammables & cough
Me & a magic dragon inside my rib cage likes to pass & puff
Now my love life has gotten uglier mixed between amnesia & nostalgia
Eloping with Angela coming to age like fallopian to embryo
Broadcasted like a umbilical signal connected from a pirate radio
Ironing my brainfolds until I'm one sided like flat earth
Crawling back into the womb just to seek for rebirth
Tear it all apart limb from limb
Let the joints make it reconnect
If it still feels like yesterday with its same stories
It means thoughts are dwelling on such memories
It's like hungrily chasing after every girl makes it look tiresome
It's pretty ugly how it turned out from young & handsome
To something written from the fractured wrist of a broken author
I'm more serious with the pen than a person signing a Devil Contract
You wont know what i think under the guidance & substance of ink
Under the influence of underground music I've grown like a polyp
My controversial writing methodology is a walk on a tight rope
Acrobatic how i flip perspectives developing skills to help me cope
I'm in a metaphysical space defying the principles of my fateless state
Acting as a medium to this musical dramatization on a theatrical rate
No stop motion, no motion pictures because my life isn't a movie
It's more of a manuscript written with invisible ink & ashes of a doobie
Smoke signals billow whenever I place my demented head on a pillow
I sleep & dream of death caught up in the seductive webs of a widow
I cry no more as both my eyes are submerged in tears of sorrow
I stare in the mirror & see the reflection of a man of tommorow
He points a finger at me, I smile back & follow after his shadow
Every step he makes seems to quadruple away from the narrow
But I can't keep up with his pace like the aging process in bone marrow
It's quite skin deep I'm scratching beneath my scalp to figure it out
I raise my voice just to make sure I still can hear myself when I shout.
HOOK
Sometimes I wonder & ask myself what my lyrics are all about
Seems I'm spinning & tilting from the axis of my centripetal weight
I ask myself what my lyrics are realistically centered on
Seems I'm rotating & cycling on velocities that are foreign.
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