How Sick I Am

Stupid loose voodoo, controlling where you move to

Got a new groove that I know you can groove to.

Let me see your hands like I'm law enforcement

You better back up or I'm calling for it.

 

Let me tell you something that you're gonna need a seat for/

Be sure that your teeth are gonna be restored:

 

 

I'm sicker than a kid with a weak immune system

who had raw meat brought into his kitchen.

The food was mixed in with putrid chicken.

Cooking too fast was the usual tradition.

He got first serving, two for his pick.

It wasn't til later that he knew it hit him.

Parents ignored it, refused to swoop in.

Even though the two of them knew his sickness.

Because there was a way they were used to livin.

They blew all their money on useless spendin.

 

His dinner soon soured, he threw it up.

Sick of being sick, he refused to succumb.

Too bad and too late; though they knew it stung

his parents retreated, that's how Scrooges run.

The money was gone, they had used it up.

They avoided any contact, refused to hug.

It got to the point he was pukin blood.

His parents' mistake was the hugest one.

Doctors took him in and reviewed their son.

Said they had to go and remove his lung.

Prayer became fuel, and they used it up.

Never knew their efforts were doomed to flunk.

 

Now they had to talk about funeral decisions.

Put him in the ground, or let the fumes get him.

Starting asking God, about his true vision.

Waiting for his voice, thinking they would soon listen.

Answers were bread crumbs to a few pigeons

Food to a child with malnutrition.

God didn't speak, so they grew to cynics.

Wondering if Hell was a place He threw kids in/

The marriage was over it just produced friction.

Split them both apart like nuclear fission.

 

And when the kid died too sick to breathe.

Even he knew he wasn't as sick as me.