King Of The Dirt Under My Feet Poem by Will Althen

King Of The Dirt Under My Feet

Bent but not broken
I’m the black sheep
A token
Write down the truth
While the “philosophers”
Are toking
So called softly spoken
But I have no voice
No free choice
So sit back
Cause they wanna bury me
She wanna bury me
The haters burying me
So give me a shovel
‘Cus the compost is in trouble
I have no double
But they are all impersonating me
They don’t shout their mouths
So you could say they are hating me
They don’t shut their mouths
But they are not breaking me
I hear no love
No one is inflating me
Sitting on my island
I’ve defined it
See clearly
Like John Nash
I cant see the cash
Ive wiped it away
On more Italian
Than tan spray
Yeah they call it Mafia
But I call it another day
Murderous Day Dream
Wanna stay clean
When I wipe the blood of me
Walk on bodies because
The hard way was too rough
Be like Tony bend down
Snort, now that’s the stuff
Back to the Italians
I wanna be situation bough
But on the inside every one
Is bubble gum tough
All these boasts
All these self toasts
Just cause I wanna b
Like Biggs and sell dope
Dead before I was alive
Is there any at all hope
Please just say the word
I’m at the end of my rope
Murderous Day Dream
Scarface wnna be
I wanna see
But why don’t I wanna free
All of you from people like me
Pens and paper
Boast and self toasts
Knock me off my path
Before I become a host.

Will Althen

Will Althen

The District
Error Success