He’s eventually approaching, as he gently tip toes and hits floors with gripped souls his lips cold,
And mentally he’s frozen, with jigsaws they disclose and withhold like fixed roads that explode,
And his energy is focused, till it was lost in the mist, and caught with a fist and tossed in abyss,
Now his identity is hopeless, the façade of existence in the falsest of bliss in a closet of risks.
I’m stuck between a cross roads,
A GPS can’t navigate a lost soul,
But honest, I’m really bad at decision-making,
I digress, with the process of elimination,
A giant, fork in the road has me sick of waiting,
I promised, to choose a path now I’m slipping on the slickest pavement,
I’m trapped, but I made my own prison cage,
And when I found my home it came with an eviction page,
They say two heads are better than one, but then I’m headed in the wrong direction sweating to the reddest of suns.
Prolific Mexico City rapper SPEAK ponders the self-isolated age on a booming EP, recorded live in his kitchen during quarantine. Bandcamp New & Notable Jun 24, 2020