Sometimes, I bring out gold
Other times, it’s just plain rubbles
Pure sand to my eyes,
While I try to form a new language;
a new way called meaning, a sinner I remain
A sinner still moving from
One deep end to the other flat line
Both comprising, an essence in turmoil
As I push further out from the box,
I see my sins, though I get clearer,
The fight gets harder and tougher

So please, don’t kill my vibe
When you see me trying to find meaning
To you, I’m just contradicting
To me, I’m just being real and alive

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