What cord has been struck
To make thee
Actions of a few
paint pictures in a different direction
Only leading too
Them not wanting to be
Around knowledge
But thee
stock is great and thee action
Is of strange
To know that in time
What season I am in now will
not always be my season
Yes I will became
A picture
Not someone to frame
as in a book or
a character
written out of many lives
which struck my violin
thee wrong way
By the static shock
flipped at me for them suffering
But if I don't walk in your circles
How can I ever do anything right
In your eyes
When I hear energy
expressed about what I am not doing
More then what I hear when
I do partake.
But for the life of me who
struck those cords
And made a bunch
Wanting my violin to end
So they don't here my cord end.
Or watch what good I do bring
to great mindsets
which always detail my ass
to...