HOPE

Every night in my room and my head still tilts to the moon
Every night in my room and my head still tilts to the moon
Every night in my room and my head still tilts to the moon

I ask God why he still don't like me
The moon still shines on my tomb like nightly
A self portrait from the boy from the D and
That's tattooed right below the naval on my briefs
And as of late I've been in love with the image
That I gotta satisfy the only people that I'm missing
Now that's fourteen names all stuck in my head
And that's eight day ones while I still wet the bed
And that's hardships found only answered by the bottle
And that's suicide; genocide; all *coughs*
Tears still falling while the rhythm keeps flowing
And her last name now good riddance, she eloping
I feel utopia is here
And if George Orwell seen it all through the fear
And if Rembrandt's strokes said the vision seem clear
And if Africa was life, would the sky seem clear?
With the words that I scrawl
Only live through the screen but the tales that I tell
Only dance in your dreams
The sage still burns 'cause the urn still close
Kids doing drugs while the schools sell hope
Sell hope, shit, I meant dope

Every night in my room and my head still tilts to the moon
Every night in my room and my head still tilts to the moon
Every night in my room and my head still tilts to the moon
Every night in my room and my head still tilts to the moon
To the moon, uh huh