Priest aka Pariah

[sral]

"The Climb" (2009)

the morning spoke in tongues... through light
something born out of hope that couldn't trust the night
or pay the toll, he saw another life
another chance to grow and make something right
before his mother woke, he was out of sight
a letter on her bed... like he was better off dead
before she even read it... she knew what it said
all he saw was red through the greyhound window
escaped through sound and counted all his sins, slow
now he's fate bound, the amount of bullshit he knows
surrounds him, he's bound, he starts to drown as the city grows
the more he sees the less he knows
the more he needs, the less he owes
a tortured seed that was blessed to glow
got absorbed by the streets & the wretched show
but called by the beaches and the plateaus
had to let it go.... and seek higher ground
the path was a road on a map he found
tracking his soul like a basset hound
all he had was the clothes on his back, he's crowned
the last from the old school to pass it down
chalk and cardboard, stalking a forgotten lord
chopping thoughts with a sword, striking an odd chord
caught up in the horde, but moving on toward
something else, never really felt no kinda love for himself
now he's marching on, across suburban lawns
sparked by the dawn, somehow it turned him on
the role of stranger, got to know his anger
was told by the scrolls no one's alone in the manger
but he couldn't get past it... took it and passed it
shoulda been outlasted, crooked tooth half wit
plastic, placid, tried to mask shit, so sarcastic
his heart was spastic, drastic, elastic, his hands are quick
uncovered buried hope, recaptured the magic
while the ferry floated on the sad and tragic
re-creations of a demon nation he was trying to escape from
his face was numbed by the winds of change in this place he had come
looking at this mountain... like a childs first step
seemed monumental... designed by Imhotep
chasing down a temple, truth is quiet if it's kept
...his stomach rumbles as he struggles through the jungle
befuddled by this puzzled feeling muzzled wants to guzzle
life with every muscle, being righteous is a hustle
he started seeing prayer flags...
half out of breath, he didn't care... taking drags
stares through heavy bags, wants to jack some spirit swag
fearlessly he tags, the moment with his mind
behold, he sees a shrine, Gary Oak leaves shine
spoke of the divine, he felt open and entwined
with a bigger web of time, accepted it was undefined
gave himself over... be a slave or a soldier
he saw a monk in the distance and said "state what you know sir"
" is faith the only cure?... can a man ever know 'pure'?
how can you be sure?... to me it's just a blur..."
the monks eyes glowed, he said " There's something I know...
but if you want grace, then succumb to what you owe.."