Standing still gets you nowhere, so you know how I feel

I been standing here for quite some time keeping it real

When music is my inspiration, life is my template

Or life is my groove, and music is my outlet

Viscous circles full of stars orbiting my head

No, head full of viscous stars making lots of bread

It angers me, but I can't write deep insightful rhyme

Knowing that I've been seen as a rapper for quite some time

Angel on the left and devil on the right

Weighing down my shoulders, my advisors conspire to fight

The plight can never be displayed upon my face though

An angel in the devils image holds the last peso

Waste no moment in pursuit of any whim

Hold no grudges losses or wins

Live life to the fullest feel it deep in every limb

Being hurled to the end and always thrive to begin

I wanna quit my job

In order to work more

Write more

Get more

These are goals to work for

I wanna work full time for love and not a pay check

I wanna live my dream with no regret

I've watch time fly from my wrist in digital increments

Each one leeching off my mental inventiveness

I'mm sick of this but not to the point of pistols and c-4

But that might be next week so i guess I'll leave before

I need to detour away from the course of this rat race

Rodents don't run the same after staring at this cat's face

I guess that explains why I could never get into it

Visioning making a living from tips and minimum dividends

Pay scales and hate mail two breadcrumbs from the same trail

Neither of these is needed for me to see they greed sales

Details and intricacies pensions and fees too much attention of these

Prevent your freedom to breath

He who believes that nothing in life is free

Doesn't see that evil's at the root of every money tree

Cunningly running us into the ground

Listen around until the whispers of your missing existences are found

Between the sounds invading your space the day to day pace

Of things with no face too tainted to taste the race of the chase

Which of these wakes you up drenched in cold sweat

Causing folks to retire that ain't even old yet

What a petty predicament that we seem to be sitting in

Sentencing sevance into the slippers of simpletons

I'd rather love what I do and do what I love

Than owe my soul to the company store for government grub

I know my faults I think I know myself sufficiently

I only wanna take my time and just be me

Cause every time the pen and pad combine with imagination

They drive me straight up to frustration, aggravation

Penetration of thought, pacing round my room like a wild predator

Hunting down another simile or clever word to say

But I'm an introvert the stuck reaching out

In dispersed with creativity but not doubt

I see myself as stuck in a rut

Suck in my gut and kick out

A load of crap I'm worthy of the space that I've been placed at

My friends tell me that I've got an inferiority complex

I hear no outsiders authority vexed I break my first pen

Grab my notebook by the outer edge of the paper and then

Proceed to pull the bindings the spirals are seemingly unwinding

Swiftly let gravity begin