When we leave as humans we go back to being
Being human being that really means something
But we live in a reality now in a time, where
I would say to anyone you know, protect your spirit
Protect your spirit, because
Because you're in the place where spirits get eaten
How two sick individuals can produce with residuals
The miracle of purely woven infant souls is crazy
Stated plainly we see it hazy
Take not for granted the babies may we pay heed
To this cyclical storm
Melt the tip of this psychical icicle's warmth
Til the bicycle's tires are worn, I scorn no man stan
Naturally we're children of the corn
Not of the hamburger, not of the pie
Whoever said adults are educators was a lie
Parents teach without scouting out the outcomes
Our outlook's without doubt a drought without son
I only hope I give my son right of way
While the difference he's created for me? Night and day
Reconsider who you picture as teachers
It's not about the image it's about what they teach us
God forbid our kids go to school to learn from fools
The melting pot's already injecting 'em with the rules
Daughters got to be barbies to get in with the cool
Fellas want to be like fathers that they never knew
I'm not saying every teacher isn't worth their pay
I'm simply saying most of them don't know of colored pain
They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks
Nor can a foreign mind teach our minds old shit
Well if I don't know my past then my ass is grass
Same reason lost women sell their ass for cash
Same reason thirsty men trick their cash to tap
What's the hap's with the pimps in the Cadillac's
Teens learn from a media that serves them elitist fucks
With no wise folks to preach them up
Reconsider who you picture as teachers
It's not about the image it's about what they teach us
When a baby's misdirected
My best guess is it's due to the guardians elected
A babies aura is electric
So it must take some broke souls to dull it's eccentrics
A young bullet accepted
From the cities to the rez suicide is adolescent
This my attempt at progression
Still it's pity at it's best who am I to address it
I'm lost my damn self, myself I can help
If I'm a grown soul I'll battle 'til my hands welt
But I ain't got no time for yours if you're a grown man
There comes a point in time in life when we don't hold hands
When we're beyond pity, we don't be on titties
Look to yourself for help I'm not woebegone fitting
Reconsider who you picture as teachers
It's not about my image it's about what I teach you