I’m sick.
I’ve got a real ill disposition.
My intentions are pure
But there’s a cure for my condition.
My decisions
Put me in the wrong positions.
Chasing pipe dreams
Of fame and recognition.
The Epic.
Not only a name,
A definition.
My game remains no matter the pain.
I stay the charmer.
The Don of Karma.
I navigate it like the Dalai Lama
I ain’t a saint.
But I’ve got Joi de vie
And I’m the one to blame
If the cloud rains on me.
I can’t complain about it
Or even let regret
Provoke the energy it takes
For me to get upset.
A bad boy since birth
So I can’t forget
What goes around
Comes around
And it ain’t got me yet.
I’ve gotten wise in my age
And tamed the threat of my rage.
I’ve got a lot to learn
And I’ve got money to spend.
To pretend is reaping more
Than sewing ever could mend.

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