The Hunt

All the ways of man are golden But He'll weigh their hearts I'm taking Stock of my enemies For sake of the manifest Voyaging to land of papyrus and anapest I'm baking For the festivities The kind of pie the rest Of people barely have the kind of tongue to test Artists, bring a bottle of your rum, I know the quill is hectic If you are a poet I will call it analgesic People really want to come and question my devotion Know what I sacrificed for ethereal prick? My gasoline doesn't come with a lubricating agent So you don't want to know what it takes to oil the pistons I really don't have a singular source of my motivation But, cool, I captured a couple hundred thousand people's attention Pick Nick, for the Christmas But pick me, for the feast 'Cause every one of my brushstrokes Is a picnic, at least And I'm leader of the litter even though I was a runt Guess that happens when you wean yourself so early for the hunt Won't keep awaiting Pain and fears to fade 'Cause they don't Evanesce, I guess they're here to stay Hey Save your stiffness For the rigor mortis Pen in the womb Can't apologize you barely took notice If you're interested in knowing my place of business Take a gander above and you'll see the sky is my office Don't call it a pro phase Keeping the pro, leaving the phase Knowing the pen got enough ink for the rest of my days I'm only new to you, I've been writing since my tighty-whities And I'm constantly in development, you can call me prophase Love feeling the cold upon my skin the shower So I can wake up in the morning knowing goals to devour You see the key to all of the greatness isn't chasing the power But rather finding a way to make the minute stretch like an hour I'm paddling in the waters of thought, I'm nauseous I'm swimming through my enemies, fighting the sharks and crises Cautious, like a fish in the murk of the marshes Only time that you'll hear my sign is Pisces On the edge like Tower Lire Sacrifice so pen inspires Is that not the artist's plight? Bathing in the kerosene to feed the fuel to raging fire? I can't tell if I'm losing my mind, or finding it 'Cause the deeper in the troubling pit that I get The kind of place so unlit, you barely see what is writ The more that I can feel the ease, when I write and I spit Won't keep awaiting Pain and fears to fade 'Cause they don't Evanesce, I guess they're here to stay I feel I've made from rhymes and notes My very own sweet home I've come to shore, and burnt my boats 'Cause I don't fear the bones