Isn't it crazy how that which is considered great, is also that which reminds us just how human we are? Like a fuckin' cop-out you're blind to, like a shadowy thought in the back of your head, you realize that it's not what you think it is—and it never was, either. Think about it: people dramatize the same ole shit in a different way, the same ole tune with a different sway, or, hell, maybe the exact same thing just a lil' more gay; but you've gotta see, that's the way.

Truth is it works, even if only for those who can see it. If you can change it, do, if you can't, then don't, cause you obviously don't get it if your only options are can-do, can't-do and come to—that is to say the realization that you're not what you think you are, or maybe that the world ain't good enough for you. Make it so it is, since sittin' around never been a great idea lest the dust set in on the old notion that time takes care. But time, bein' a part o' life doesn't care, can't care and serves no purpose other than to let you know you're times tickin', you're body's a' wastin' and the only cure is that itchin' for you to quit the bitchin' due to society's stichin' in that ole wicker basket kitchen where people tell their stories, no matter how dull, and act like it's all cool.

Sure, maybe it ain't. We all know it could be better, but it's a struggle to make the bland interesting we share, and apparently, if seeing, mind you, it's almost like as much as we want to we really don't care. It still sucks, the strong survive, and the weak dream to thrive. Settling for merely "being along for the ride" isn't good enough—hell, it can't be. If you don't lead your own story, what's keeping you from tying lead to your feet to the bed at which you sleep so the eyes go heavy and the dreams seem heavenly in such a way the day just sleeps itself away.

Dreams are yours to have, but not realized they fall to side and off to aft when they roll off that day-dreamin' back, only wantin' the easy life and never even once seein' the good side o' strife. Respect, bein' a two-way street comes to those who know it as well as their two feet and can leave it as well as take it and run. Because if you don't got it, you'll hear from no one.