We turn, we see, we watch, we break.

The Nungal, the Igigi, we learn to wait.

A Fallen Angel, that continues to lie.

Forever wanting, we look to buy.

At home, alone, in my head, I feel.

Almost drunk, I drink, then spill.

A front, up front, we see what is done.

Hoping to God, that they're having fun.

In which, we gasp, we breathe for Air.

To grasp, at last, embracing the fears.

We act, we ride, we're destined to reek.

Of gold, so shiny, then it depletes.

In blood, we whine, then "Busta Rhymes,"

In crime, for rights, we sin for light.

Hold on, I see, an Atlantean that fights.

Burn to a crisp, then "Out of Sight,"

I like it black, I sip, a coffee, not Brisk.

The Paa Taal, they know, it glistens, the wrist.

On time, at first, then we burst.

Up scale Jury that chooses to curse.

Then off, hence from, back to back, the bliss.

Finally seeing, in what we missed.

In truth, we're fair, we plead to flee the Fair.

A God that seems to actually care.

At dawn I see, in sleep, I risk.

At all times, feeling a lil sick.

And all along, it was him that runs.

Praying to God that he learns to come.

Back to the days, I see, it hurts.

A guy named Garth but not Garth Brooks.

In my hand, his life, dangles by a thread.

Doing it all for the love of bread.

We break, we feed, we're fed with bread.

Ingesting gold, instead of lead.

The ring, it rose, Interstellar Woes.

Learning to press go, after the green light glows.