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letra de life's not a bitch... - replicator (of futurology)

[verse 1]
i’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout the future of this planet
every blasphemous inhabitant and casual protagonist
every well meaning activist and each p-sserby
counting the days ’til the eventual death of the sun
breath in our lungs, food on the tongue lies heavy
with the end dead set in our memory
so subjective and yet so convincing
reality tunnels convexed until they’re in sync
i’m convicted, i never learned to listen
either that or i was never taught
i only ever learned to listen to songs
‘cause i knew that it was worth the thought
it was imperative for me and never quit writing this sh-t
no sever the one endeavor that enabled me to live
it’s like ya pray the way i wish
when ya let a craft slip a lavish maverick turns average without p-ssion
so if anything, thank the universe for your next breath
lift your chest and don’t live in distress
‘cause we’re blessed with life if nothing else
so please don’t define it all by your wealth
don’t reclaim with your love and health
don’t break down in fits of rage at your crumbling stability
it’s arbitrary, life laughs at us
the only thing that helps is being [?] of the transience
so dance with the [?]
and then laugh at how ridiculous that concept sounds
i’ve got my feet on the ground, head in the clouds, pennin’ profound, step out of bounds, don’t let me out now ‘cause i’m homebound
our social nature’s being stolen
also i can be so [?]
of our own proceeding focus
on mother nature’s secret potions

[verse 2]
the peace and love required for human prosperity
are sold off wholesale to design and disparity
this isn’t apathy, it is active hatred
then we can’t abandon it nor fight fire with flame
so fire up your brains
‘cause we only get better with the intelligent movement of the scientific method
and that’s no exaggeration, look back through the ages
the apex of human progress is born through amazement
it comes with curiosity, not bitterness and fits
we live through creativity, we’ve even sigils in our midst
so who in our midst still commands this magic?
the seat of consciousness, the spark of g*nius
the transitory madness that preludes every leap forward
the honor to alter each disorder
screaming onwards and upwards and tortured lovers
and awkward [?] who shudder at the thought of being discovered
this gift right here, it shines brightest when it’s dark
hidden in my art is every scar [?] my heart
i’m not one to complain or even talk about issues
but in these words you’ll find a reason that i struggle to continue
every malady rotting my sinew
every half truth that miscast the mindset i pen my life to
it’s insightful to the point that it cripples me
i worry family members have listened to my discography
writing gets personal but music is ephemeral
so i figure this a good way of venting stuff and let it go
but even that it doesn’t work these days
the second i lift my pen from the page it’s back to the pain
of being steeped in uncertainty
sometimes i want to erase this memory
start out fresh in a new world of possibility
then realize that i’d never even know it was a victory
how do i fit into this breathtaking ent-ty?
i guess i’m just a word in an infinite soliloquy
spoken over centuries and lost in translation as it trickles through my fickle little brain

- replicator of futurology

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