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letra de catch my drift - qais hakeemi

it is confusions and contusions plus illusions to take care of at the very beginning of life
a treasure might’ve been put ahead somewhere to find out. let’s hand in hand find ourselves our treasures. seems late, eh? be that what it would, let’s see. what is this? let me read through it

let’s begin with clearing up things; fling a sting, a string, and start pulling that again
i guess the better way is to sink in the ocean that may ring a bell in my head
the tv is turned on all the time; showing us all burned on the firе. and little by little, we losе our finds chasing after the wrong mines

today we are put to sleep, they are gone be put on to bed, you’ll see someday
then we’ll be having all the fun our way, toting up to our necks, the guns. we are dark, in probs even though the sun is up
whassup? the fire is lit, so we got to get some open understanding of what it is peeling us and skinning us to our bones. mommy is calling on the phone, shouting, “come on home!”. “which home?”, i say. home’s no more! , the sun’s dim light may brightly someday get shone via our own force and our gore wishes that’re graved with them eating their gravy. graft! they will be razed to the ground. snap!
we ought to get our levies. duty, okay! the leverage of others is leveraged on us, holdin no grudge with them. just pen to the paper whatever comes down to head; fingers typing out, seems fit. wish i could hug the lap of easiness at the least, have a few fruits and a piece of meat to feast my eyes. beast of burden, i am getting to be. i have to carry loads on my shoulders heavy as boulders as put in a wobbly boat that floats and dips in the sea
all i wanna have is an easy life, not for me, for the tears that are boiling hot. i wish i had my final shot, not to change me, shoot me to sleep cuz i ain’t at ease, can’t bear all the things going on with my heart. my home!

they say, it’s a grand land with grandeur. blunder it is. all this country to us did is, brought us thunders and grew others fonder to fondle our d-cks and teach us how to beg things
slung flowers for a long while, now sling guns. fund our roots to get done with poisons. we are redundant (redone done). gaunt, i don’t know what that means, fit does it deem

they’re playing a seamstress who mends our seams, but big guns kicked our derrieres by watering our seeds with dirt and p-ss and l!ck us with venomous tongues. i may probly go now and run my errands. i got much to get done with
who cares what is fun, barring me, but i am also empty tanked and done. understanding plays and politics, son, with days and joysticks used in the game. neither is joying us nor flying us off the pain. let’s bid byes to the game
quit playing with this sh-t paying. plain!

we all need a understand codes we are in a highly tough mode

- qais hakeemi

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