Robbed of my consciousness by my subconscious,
trapped inside my soul unable to escape death's vice grip hold;
Dead man walking no need for grave or coffin,
gotta quiet smoking because asthma keeps me coughing/
choking-went against the grain for so long,
the grain is just about gone;
Never overstood why brothers sang the blues,
but now that my sorrows have robbed me of my aggression,
my pen is my only way to avoid the on-coming depression;
Holy Armor and Shield,
toting Hanzo steel,
fighting spiritual warfare,
my entire cypher is a battlefield,
caught in the tsunami's tornado,
consciously my subconscious walked straight into the storm;
Pride urging me,
compelling me to believe my strength can weather the evil's reign,
but my flesh is soaked like window panes during hurricane's rain;
Robbed of my conscious,
searching for the culprit amongst my cerebral insanity,
excavating every entire chamber inside my mental cavities,
underneath enamel,
deep into the depths of my structures bone marrow,
but the thief is no where to be located,
so I whistle for heaven's hounds
because I've consciously realized
my soul is no longer on solid ground…
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