[Verse 1]

The legend of Michael Collins inside this mic is a promise

For brighter times but if like him I die tonight for my province

Will music be buried with me or live in the ears of listeners

Who will be at my funeral shedding tears of a different complexion

Just pretending to mourn me like its compulsive

Im torn between the reluctance of god and feeling accomplished

The microphone my accomplice the pen and pad my devotion

A silent home of asylum I cried in bled out and spoken

Recitals of my revival reminders of how I travelled

A spinning top of inception my vinyl records can fathom

A thicker plot I project with the time I spent in this cabin

'Til I rot I will beckon with rhymes I vent and imagine

Child of men like im Faron searching earth for a reason

To turn the hurt into freedom and rise from dirt and my demons

But a pheonix never thrives underground

Like a miner with the mind of a genius never found

[Verse 2]

As I lie awake with rain in the darkness feel like the farthest from truly being an artist I’ll pass the time it’s regardless

On writing a rhyme or maybe just buying a gram to settle

Nervous symptoms I had diagnosed in me as a petal

A bare root, but you can bear fruit to my Adams apple

Larynx of filthy habits inhabited by the doors of the chapel

Am I more than a stranger with smoking habits?

Endangered by hope and having this faith in my only talent

Days in this lonely planet are feeling more like a struggle

The older I get it seems the more problems I have to juggle

Thats life, this verse is spoken without the bragging complexion

Its just the curse of my soul that was sewn as an adolescent

Truly its undeniable gloomy but justifiable

Just to find an affectionate hobby, had to pry from the patronizing demeanors

Of parrot lies from the teachers who’s paradise is to keep you in shallow life but im deeper

[Spoken]

How much abuse can we handle how many lives can be taken

Before its not just a gamble of suicide in our nation

How many words can be spoken before its proven to damage

Sticks and stones are just a metaphor for usual habits

Of putting up with the names, hoodies up in their shame

Until enough is enough and they start to open their veins

Until the mirrors are broken I barely bare my reflection

I say a prayer my perception of me will change in the heavens

And im not talking of mine, it's the perception of those

Who only fuelled my insecurity and stepped on my toes

Will they be there at my casket masking the pain that they gave me

Swearing me as a companion saying they wished that they saved me

This is a message to all, if you feel destined to fall

You pick yourself up from the slumber and prove all of um wrong

I found my voice through these songs you can find your's in this message

Your worth it, you have a purpose and dont ever forget it gatch