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Lazarus, Lazarus...
where are you?!
Come up out of that grave, you're useless if you're dead, you'll become a hero if just change your ways, of thinking and acting, recreations of doings and receiving wicked satisfaction just to get reactions from people who truly don't care about your subconscious funeral.
If you make that bed, please sleep in it, if you close your eyes, that grave gets deeper, no salvation for you, you'll get fondled forever by the grim reaper.
It's cheaper to keep him, Mrs. knowledge, it's expensive to marry her, but it's worth it, holy matrimony, you too can become perfect, searching of ways to inspire and ignite dead candles that will eventually become a trail of light into the darkness of Satan's domain.
Listen here to what I'm saying, teach truth, ban twerking, teach knowledge of self, ban the oppressors culture, you don't fit in this society, so you get way less offers than cream colored coffee.
Lazarus stop boiling your eggs and fry them sunny side up on the sidewalk, let your people's people know that the sidewalk isn't only made for yellow tape and white chalk, with stains of red and a brown victim belly side up all shot up by the police force that was supposedly made to protect and serve us, at least that's what it says on a patrol car. The End...
King Qadar Dwon'
