Audience

You've lost it except 1 cent, 2 cent, 3 cent trust me? drop it,

the pretense that others got it, empty all your dusty pockets,

whether if you run from me, if you wanted peace

you're losin your lunch money in front of me and my audience

 

what I want's to start talking some common sense

like, 1 cents, 2 cents, 3 cents stop it with the pettiness

why do you want them, to mend this manliness

you spend for every man you lend a hand to

make amends for shame you have of rage you slap

on every razor edged filleting threat my face is met with,

when it just so happens at recess I see this recessed beneficence

that's been regressed ever since this thieving ras-cal gained an audience

 

Cause its obvious, ain't it? I'm caught in this

between being vulnerable if my heart could've grown into its zenith

or sheddin' my feelings, and forgetting that real is

responsibility, of self, of helpin'

the cards others were dealt in

stead of havin' a second helpin' to feed the constant feeling of greed

for impressin' others and making friends a possibility

 

Now honestly you've done lost it,

Take a look in the mirror, the next time you clench your fist

for a hook, you will hear a voice of a boy

singin' '1 cent, 2 cent, 3 cent' stop toying

with your allowance, and know now that

you could at least afford your groceries, with no holsters

leading you while you plea for penance for another offense

and a chance to see

right, instead of witnessing the penitentiary lights

With extended family fights over pennies and how many dollars

this inheritance could be like, if you ended your own relatives' lives

out of this desperation then maybe you could justify attempting these crimes to impress your friends

Until then, hand me them '1 cent, 2 cents, 3 cents' dropped before I start to call the cops in on your audience