| I generally vent from the ventricle
|
| Trust a aorta to dispense what is sensible
|
| In a world where the truth is unmentionable
|
| I tip-toe with my tap shoes, my black views are not identical
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| Not very welcome, like Van Helsing at the Vatican
|
| Kicking that rap again
|
| Blurting out that I’m African
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| And so are some of you
|
| But you’d rather cup your ears and sing Xanadu
|
| I guess to challenge the world could damage you
|
| And really rip through the flesh like a cannibal
|
| Wipe the slate clean, proceed to daydream
|
| Wipe the slate clean, proceed to daydream
|
| Yes, the blue skies occasionally turn grey
|
| Yes, we calculate your age by your birthday
|
| But we also love ourselves in the worst way
|
| Man- and Woman-kind floored from the first day
|
| Young World
|
| Chapter 7
|
| Young World
|
| Young World, Young World, before you say «hey, let’s hold up»
|
| Spreadsheets and see the way things fold up
|
| It’s been a minute, yes indeed, so you’re older
|
| Is there a big, fat chip on your shoulder?
|
| Take care before it becomes a boulder
|
| An avalanche, an aroma
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| That can leave you stuck in a coma
|
| Many lessons, many teachers in life
|
| Some of us never graduate with that diploma
|
| Or, even make it to the next phase
|
| We celebrate days and weeks and months and years
|
| Should we celebrate sweat and a bunch of tears
|
| In a world where you’re rubber-stamped worthless
|
| From the beginning
|
| Got to go and find your purpose
|
| Nobody’s grinning
|
| The winner never seems nervous
|
| Life is not just a moment, it’s a skillful opponent
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| That you have to fight or learn to just… roll with |