Rocks hit his face, bursting veins, blood ran down his new jacket.
He felt the pain, heard shouts of "Clown!" and soon, "Faggot!"
Such cruel madness, the wine stain on some smooth fabric.
An alias coming to life concludes crashing
tides onto the shoreline's pasture, creating bliss from nothing.
Nothing budges when you dont even find yourself to put trust in.
Then you soon start erupting.
Clutching, lust for consumption.
Alone.
Other half's wanting the world to see him.
Not just that he lives or that he's breathing.
Sid begged for an answer by waving his hand high,
but a teacher was never waiting on stand by.
Maybe he's been too busy chasing those tan lines.
Mindset on some hollywood racing with land slides.
Meaning he'll never climb the ranks, no success either.
The Hashpipe to Weezer, the Nas if the sets Ether.
No matter the comparison to great things, he shines less.
Takes the dignity with him in the tapes just to rewind stress.
Sid had to find a road to take, had to hide his ship that sank.
He met at the open grass field down by the river bank
with the other half of his personality ; Hank.
They discussed life, and how it systematically shrank.
Hank said to Sid, "I have a present." Pointing at doors,
three of them to be exact, each one joining the core
of what looks to be heaven, hell, and life's great accord.
"Your days will go on." Pace in having one's fate explored.
"Based on which door you open." Sid thought of them all.
He was undecided, said that his cost has been bought.
Sid then continued to talk...
..."They say that the day is fresh or young in the morning,
does that mean they grow old at night? Some, that's the warning.
Coping with hope's broken road is slim, until you travel it.
Eyes never set on new places, been roadkill and glad of it.
Here's the lavish twist : the road's made of eggshells... entrapment.
So does the road always lead down? If so, life's been fascist."
"So it's trapped us?" Hank asked. I said, "No, life has lapped us.
I can't even see the checkered flags, my sight has vanished.
Instead you stand in the way, Hank. I am no longer a kid.
You can't expect me to pick a door, I am stronger than this.
How many conversations can one have with himself knowing,
that you're chosen to represent two lives like you're Hell's spokesman.
How can the end of one life mean the other passes with it?
Hank will live on. The body dies, but not its attached spirit.
Hell seemed the best suited for Sid, he pushed the door open.
What he seen was a place where he couldn't be more focused.
Fortuneless, just themselves and his tragedies to escape.
Amnestied his place on Earth for them to see Hank's face.
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