Doing Alright.

A razor blade of apprehension slicing through the air,

You worry about the future, too bad I’m already there.

You thought that it’d be bleak but I’m laughin’ at your thoughts

‘Cause before this I was clean without any of your spots.

Hold me down with a chain, treat me like a simple slave

Then blame me when I start to act up and misbehave?

That’s brave of you to do but only trouble will ensue

Because I’ll find a way with or without listening to you.

My future looks white as the snow that falls on mountains

My energy level high like it springs from youth fountains.

I weave out and in like the oldest veteran basketweaver

I don’t need you to talk, I just need and want a real believer.

Keep the faith strong as you long as you can keep it

And when the ledge grows shorter, then may I ask you to leap it?

A leap of faith through time to understand what I see and know

A simple test of character to see the friend and foe.

My future isn’t in your hands and it’s mosdef not in mine

‘cus the future really belongs to the one God divine.

Death and disability may try to come and plague me

but my faith in God alone is the thing that will save me.

My rhyme and my time, my breathing of the beat

the dryness of my mouth and my spitting of the heat.

Sahara desert, I’ve entered a real plateau

‘Cus i’ve said all I needed got nothin’ left to show.

God is with me and with each breath I will fight

to just convince you that everything will be alright.

So good night, the sky runs away from the approaching darkness

This contrast in lyricism comes with a reproaching starkness.

The beauty of the verse preserved by the rhythm,

the anguish of the house destroyed by the schism.

What could have been so great to have mangled this humble house?

Was it due to the silence in which you could hear a mouse?

No communication is what I’m spittin, ironically enough

But it’s okay for you and me because we’re both so tough?

No, it’s time to give up this grand facade

and realize we each other must applaud.

We put on many guises and deceived one another

But when it comes down to it, you’re still my blood mother.

A sister in the Church though we’re on different planes

But we have the same blood coursing through and in our veins.

So please, just communicate, it doesn’t hurt to talk.

I’ve broken my leg but I’m willing to walk the walk.

And when I’m asked how I am, I will say “alright,”

because in that single question my soul can take its flight.


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