Thousands approach
Wanting to meet the man in the mask
Sipping my flask
Watching the world, trying to grasp
My mind set
Yet to set my mind yet
All goals on hold for fear of folding
Holding back
Coldest Tracks were laid for lyrical trains
the deranged membrane is me brain
refrain from critique
a future so bleak
But still a treat for ears to hear
Sneers and jeers from past peers
Became cheers whether through admiration or fear
My only statement
Me and my soldiers march in cadence
as I doctor my lyrics, lacking patients.