simply....

Here we go again,
With no rhyme or reason or groove to our step,
Once more spit out by our proverbial fathers,
Made to sit on imaginary corners,
Strutting our imaginary stuff...
But I've noticed something else...
We pray more-
I mean deep down,
PRAISE GOD ALMIGHTY
Kind of praying...
Cause we know we're not children anymore,
And its scary...
So we smoke our pot and take our acid-
See visions and make them mean something...
Call it even and go with that I guess-
Hell, stick a price tag on it and call it...
The PLATINUM AMERICAN DREAM package,
Then break it down,
And ill stay in an lovely second rate motel
In the upper ghetto side,
Order up some Waffle House,
And never leave a tip-
Shady mother fucker probably doesn't even
Need the goddamn tip,
What I need is a room with a door
With a fool-proof lock,
A couple of hours of silence,
Ten blunted and a brand new lighter,
A getaway car and a full tank of gas.
Speeding up, slowing down...
Overdosing on my life-
Might as well not even offer a inch,
Cause I'm out for the whole goddamn mile.
No, fuck that!
Give Route 66 to me dazzled in a snow globe,
And ill show u a smile and a sexy side...
But I guess uve seen this all before-
In a different essay,
Seen through amother pair of eyes.
We love to dream though don't we,
Me and you-
The inseperable pen and paper-
No strings attached, no views too strange,
No lies...
Just us,
Moving along at the average word per minute...
Still searching,
For that rhyme, that reason,
That groove to our step.