It's the thoughts that I wonder, world that’s a blunder,
which I cannot explain. It's the pain that I detain, the way I behave
which makes me one of the last to remain
My finger nails have dirt on em; it's the point that makes me imperfect
At times im lost and I forget, So much sweat when am at work,
im not a sinner but sometimes I don't go to church
Does it mean I am hailed to burn?
My body feel worn, when am alone, I can get cold,
my heart can get torn. Every 8 seconds a baby is torn,
and somebody mourns.
I don't know, one day I will
My questions will be revealed, while my ghetto kids squeal,
I try to hear. Millennium is here, people announce the end is near
But what is it im supposed to fear?
Still I try to hear.......
(Thoughts for 99)
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