[Verse One]
The heritage of our unborn generation is something else
With all the blessings & gifts, wealth, tech innovations
There's a curse in the combination of their traits, DNA, RNA,
Still there's room big enough to entertain further mutation, perversion, aberration.
Souring of this age didn't begin today.
It shares the same birthday with Adam & Eve after the fall
Permit me if today's not Sunday
I preach to no choir but listen to my sketch book
The art is about my date because she affects us all
She's short, she's tall
She's big, she's small
She's hood, she's royal
She's barbie, she's a frog
I love her than mom
To she I'm a monk
I love her than mom
To she I'm a monk
It's sad to see this part of me
denying this fact like Sadducees
Not hard to see my love is real,
sound argument not fallacy
Shun philosophy,
with all of me,
I love you real no Pharisee
Bad to see my nightmare coming to reality you're gone with him
[Verse Two]
Time to unpack the words I travelled so long with this broken heart in my back pack
Though you lack facts, your new love, old love is nothing more than a fat brat
Let's rewind, your love is flawless, morning star, humble to a KING's smile.
Literally, musically, spiritually, he's a god in his primetime
After that, pride came immersed him,
aftermath, lucifer morning star
Became a fallen star where's the kappa at?
At the bottom resentful, vengeful cooking a planned attack
like cat attack,
coup coup coup counter attack
Failed the coup, turned one third to demons, collateral damage, savage
It's impossible, it's fictional, infeasible, make-believe,
delusional, improbable.
Then proposers go;
It's factual, actual, literally happened, veritable,
unquestionable, truthfully credible, on the level.
On & on & on & on the debate goes
Nobody wins no trophy prize
Till there's a point to compromise
Maybe a new red hot topic to philosophise
But this is what my love has cost us,
Soundtrack of life, solace to billions
What's life without her
So being molested, abused & misused
By some so this is the fruit of her womb
Perverse generation that dare not be accused.
Too loose for rules.
[Endnote]
Thunderous thanks to Black Violin. These men are geniuses, their blend of classical sound and hip hop on their "Classical Trained" album is truly a classical masterpiece. One of their tracks, "A-Flat" inspired this poem. Thanks again.
