Life is a deck of cards,
Mostly credit ones,
We chase sheets and sheafs, and green leaves of money trees,
And pray to get our songs,
On coffee tables of hot labels, alongside toffee fables of love songs,
Sickly and sweet, whose in for a treat?
This industry will have your single repeat,
Or kick you to the street with a single retweet,
It's simple, you are a digit, a figure on a ticket receipt
Hoping consumers this week haven't satisfied
Their appetite for all the shit that they eat from radio

How many times have you heard 'I rhyme crazy bro'
The same old lazy flow of ideas, that like rusty bike gears
Won't change easily, so we keep on riding dirty,
Till one day you wake up polite and thirty and wish,
Wish you made something meaningful, not just for some kids,
But for your kids, that you could say listen to this,
This is how a lyricist lived, and he poured his spirit in this
But you just said, see all the spirit in this,
And raised a bottle.

While what I write could be encased in novels,
That contain my joys and my pain, I aint toying with fame.
You want longevity,
Then entwine the rhyme with your heart, and your voice,
and your brain. And in a century,
They'll hear it, and hear music as its meant to be.