Two-Toned Anecdotes

Started daydreamin', had me feeling suicidal
Sittin' in my room with a knife and a rifle
The devil will play, if you ain't grippin ya Bibles
So I'm always in the dark, because I don't worship my idols
He takes me by my hand, and I don't know what I'm doin'
It's a couple seconds in, and now I'm 'changin my movements
Drippy as fuck, these manic thoughts on my conscience
Rather kill myself before I entertain the conflict (shit! fuck!)

Knock Knock! to my psyche done fueled my intuition
Prejudiced frisk to my character before I walk on the premises
Translucence, of my heart, led to the stab wounds
Pascifistes clenched, the lacerations bled profuse
My brothas bleedin' out they backs too
All this chatterboxin' 'bout the best out, ya better ask dude
'Bout my, pen game, quit playin with Zeke, to hate, to praise
It's all the same to me, these days... these days...
Stuck in the current still, floodin' the sermons, my sluggish spirit don't move an inch in the tomb
Standoffish and brooding, expression softened
Many months I crooned, devoid of smiles and melancholic
In my figure, in, in my figure
I done seen pain personified, sideswipes, and corrosion to my image
My strides done faltered too, but played the Arcana card of Fool
Though my blood pools, I'm comin' out of the Monsoon...