In the school of Life, you have to pick and pull the versions of you you can't afford to view. For every mountain there's a hand pulling you along to the beat of their own plan. The lurk in the quicksand wants nothing more than just to be able to stand.
Here, life comes for a cost. What will the cost mean to me? Only that I need your money, time, heart and energy. There's got to be beauty in the in-between? Because both sides are nothing but greed.
In the school of life, the oppression we feel are the words of the oppressor pulling at our will. Wanting nothing more than a deal, red headed step child on my heel. Fighting for the right to be real.
Here, the broken hearted hold all the power. What does that have to do with me? Only that your trigger will always be trained on me.
In the school of life, the winding road to destruction is humiliatingly strong. The hike to success feels embarrassingly wrong. Forget the values and the morals and be shaped by the song. I was given the conscious choice, but it came down to what I felt was wrong.
In the school of life, it amazes me how family members can put differences aside for the sake of money. And how some families will cut and jive in the wake of money. If money equals power then I want what power can't buy. Cause no one here seems to be able to see eye to eye.
Here, the stillness of sound is in between boom and doom. Take me there, so I can no longer feel the gloom.
Can I bloom?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem