Have A Seat, While I Take To

Our Generation Has An Incredible Amount Of Realism, Yet At The Same Time It Loves To Complain And Not Really Change. Because, If It Does Change, Then It Won't Have Anything To Complain About.

It's About Realizing, Painfully, You've Kept That Voice Inside Yourself, Locked Away From Even Yourself. And You Step Back And See That Your Jailer Has Changed Faces. You Realize You've Become Your Own Jailer.

Years Go By Will I Still Be Waiting For Somebody Else To Understand Years Go By If I'm Stripped Of My Beauty And The Orange Clouds Raining In Head Years Go By Will I Choke On My Tears Till Finally There Is Nothing Left One More Casualty You Know We're Too Easy Easy Easy

I Call That God The Little G. Because The God That We've Been Worshipping Is Not To Me The Supreme Creator. Anybody Who Needs To Control And Make People Feel Ashamed. . .it's Like, 'i Send My Only Begotten Son. . .' Well You Know, That Concept Of Sending A Son Where We As Women Could, Like, Breastfeed Him And Give Him Milk, But He's Not Gonna Soil His Dinky With Us? What's That All About?

I Know That Mess Spelled Backwards Is Ssem And I Felt Much Better Armed With That Information.