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i'm that 40 something fly white guy
who dreamed to big and got too high
been lied too many times my size
john-holmes implosion, me capsized

i'm not stumbling around - but i'm not too far
never been busted or d.u.i. in the car
somewhat copasetic till the lightnin comes
my brain is opposable - just like my thumbs

i'm phat like dat
i'm ill like dat
i kill like dat
i'm white like dat

the voices in my head are pretty benign
they keep me up at night - but they help me write rhymes
there's pills and cures and ailments alike
you'll find me in the ward with the door that says "PSYCH"

and that's it right now, they'll be more later
the harder it gets the more it seems greater
acceptance and tolerance and working and tools
are the implements i seek and the things i don't use