3rd row, eyes on the pulpit,
've bn in church long enuf to kno which way a sermon is headed,
There He was, mic in hand, pacin the alter (in a particular order), perharps there was a sequence to which he was adhering,
nyways, he uttrd a few words, nd moments later my mind drifted towards the events that occured prior to his sermon,
my cuzn nd I, pass the bottl,(perharps in a particular sequence, but i cant quite remmber),usually our conversations hover arnd the same things
- How much money we have to make
- How much money we have to make
and finally how I manage to be such a carefree spoilt kid(mattr of fact he thinks Garfld has nothin on me)
However,today actualli tonite; my cuzn is talkin nd m thinkin,
I can't hear him nd m thinkin how I got here, m thinking how much I need to slo my role, m tryin to figure out xactli wer i crossd the line, wer i morfed into the black zebra with a fw white stripes
I always rant bt how m gonna change all this,u kno destiny nd all that ish
but right ther, it occrd to me like an epiphany, that m plunging downwards, that m sinking, nd therz no anchors, (like erybody else)
and that nothin seperates mr from the pack
and worst of all , m the enemy, nd I;m hard to kill
By now, the bottl(Johnnie of cours) is gon passd half
"2maw is chrch", I recall thinkin(my last thot actualli).
when and how we slept, I can't quite recall.
I got up frst (as usual), woke my cuzn up nd we made it to chrch,
(like 45 mins b4 grace)
we re bak home now, bak to wats left of the bottl, bak to all that I despise, all that I desire emmancipation from,
I'm the enemy and i'm quite hard to kill
