Politikalypse

[Pronotfound]

I can't stand this, my thoughts are growing outlandish, and all my old homies starting to vanish
The worst part about it is you can't tell I'm hurting or in pain at first glances, everybody just minding they're stances
I realized I haven't even reached my prime, yet I'm turning to a past phenomenon, it's like the rise of the Armageddon is coming early, they started dropping bombs in Lebanon
nearing the end, like the Mariner who killed the albatross, and never been fake, always been real, honestly don't know how to cross
can't look past my flaws, can't tell right from wrong, done did things I can't tell my Moms, guess I got real life problems to drop
kinda wishing that this depression can't stop, leaving me with a repression of the presence of thoughts, thought I fought hard but I guess my progression is flawed
Sought closure, composure reminiscent of a soldier, with the weight of two worlds on my shoulder, living a double life, wish this plight was over
maybe I can see the silver light and finally meet my composer also known as The controller
of my negative thoughts, distraught and withdrawn, spawn my immortal pawn, kill all that have wronged my prolonged existence abroad
Brought my own style to the table, reminiscent of a storyteller telling preeminent fables, Profound Pupils, no need for labels
the rebel out here flipping tables, inspired by the old-head back in the day flippin turntables, just to make a meal
Feel the zeal, Surreal reality, with fields of teal, an ideal revelation
the type to change a nation, the same type to lead a sinner to salvation and led the homeless to starvation
when the rich stopped giving out donations, leaving the rest of us with no passion resting in damnation
My mind is speaking foreign languages to some, you need translation?
combination of aggravation, mixed with a little innovation and concentration
illuminating those around me as I wait in anticipation or maybe all of this is in my imagination