Im Michael Collins in flesh the mic was common in breathes

The mic I’m holding Michael Jackson Michael Collins the rest

I acknowledge the crest, the creed and colour of skin

I bleed the blood of human you’d rather judge me a sin (x2)

From Michael Jordan to Tyson they sliced the chord of a sinner

Rises in suicide the Irish morgue getting bigger

Isis and foolish pride, a crisis for you and I

The price of a human life should be priceless I beg to differ

Im Michael Collins in flesh I like to ponder with death

Reciting poems and verses my vices turn into breathes

Spited worded a mess, judging my current wisdom

Predicting I’ll turn to prison with literal bars to live in (x2)

With criminal scars how could I be starred a christian

I poke and provoke your thoughts at ten I started bitching

And then I started listening, logic began to set in

Eleven years of age with the rage of an adolescent

A pessimist starting early, the pearly gates wouldn’t open

I learned the ways of the sensei by turning my rage to focus

Burning the page I wrote this with flaming anger resenting

The cage they plan to let in a plague and have us dead

Or in deaths wish falling from deaths grip

Collins predicted that we were fucked and his head split

Now we have Brexit, how can us men live

How can a collin really be honest when honesty isn’t Celtic

Im Michael Collins in flesh the mic was common in breathes

The mic I’m holding Michael Jackson Michael Collins the rest

I acknowledge the crest, the creed and color of skin

I bleed the blood of human you’d rather judge me a sin(x2)

I sank in floods of a king, drank the blood of his savior

My hands were cuffed to a lie, but I was judged as the slaver

I’ve had enough of this life, its time to crumple the paper

I’ve had it tough in my sight, maybe I’ll jump to my grave

Be engraved being loved being saved being hugged

Being blamed being judged seeing flames seeing blood

Be ashamed be in love be the same be the one

To be brave to be shunned I was made to be hung

Where were you when I was mortal would you care to be honest?

Where were you when I was torn between a blade and a promise

Where were you when I was born inside this hate riddled province

If I’m honest, theres just a handful of people who made me long

For affection Wanting social acception

Being told in rejection that I am nothing and never will be the best

I can be Pursuing music, looked upon as a judas

It took me long to be real with myself so now the truth is

Im Michael Collins in death, 23rd of August

Im resurrected to die like he did, for being honest

Im resurrected like christ as a kid, giving you solace

The knowledge of being born with the gift of Christopher Wallace