45 minute drive across the Turnpike Blues
The streets become so slim that it might break news
Cars all whizzing and passing, put their foot on the gas and
It leaves me asking, “Where are the masses in Bethany’s pews?”
Now, I am grateful for the people that will hear it
I thank all of the bodies that are drawn towards the Spirit
I spit this lyric for the ones, all of the daughters and sons,
that are stuck between the middle, stuck on the holiest riddle
Doubts about religion, doubts about the future
Doubts about the big man or the universe computer
Doubts on any heaven, all the shit on 7th Heaven
Doubts on Burning Bush, Christo Jesus, Allah, and Dianetics
Doubts on destiny and fate and such
“Is it for me?” “Don’t give a fuck”
“Don’t need someone preaching
when he doesn’t have his life set up."
I don’t have all of the answers
Want to chime in some perspective
If you didn’t want to listen
Could’ve left: SHIT

Blessed are the lost ones
Blessed are the freaks
Blessed are the walking bodies that are getting through the week
Cause we are all the lost ones
We are all the freaks
We’re just getting through the week
We’re all stuck in purgatory

Let me get back into this:
Climbing a mountain to meet the lion
Travel ‘cross the globe to see Zion
Waiting for Messiah
Or waiting 8 hours to see Mariah
Psych: it’s Ariana
Or any passing idol who’s on fiyah
Folks relent, “It’s us or them:
burn in hell or repent.”
To me, makes sense
But I can’t speak for everyone
And that’s an extremely aggressive way to
preach a message of peace
To the “logical ones”
What you got to prove,
Spewing rhetoric, asking, “What’s your move?”
It’s not a game, why do people have to lose?
It’s all a cruise: when we hit the iceberg,
we'll all feel the blues
Choosing takes time
be careful where you place your bet
Roll dice for paradise: have no regrets
Let go in the crapshoot
See the outcome of your afterlife on the other end

Blessed are the lost ones
Blessed are the freaks
Blessed are the walking bodies that are getting through the week
Cause we are all the lost ones
We are all the freaks
We’re just getting through the week
We’re all stuck in purgatory
x2

Dear Father,
Thank you for helping me get farther
Thank you for pushing a little harder
Thank you for paving the way for these sick bars, sir
Thank you for setting a precedence for martyrs
Know I’m not a Carter or Kendrick or Marshall Mathers
But I could be Fat Joe if I get a little fatter
But this pattern, I’ve noticed,
of malevolent choices
Got me fired up so I’ve took up as a poet
That’s what I would like to say
But Lord, you know I started rapping just to sound like ‘Ye
Okay, I wasn’t honest
But please don’t strike a fiery thunderbolt upon this
I gotta make music that will speak from the heart
That will speak from my thoughts, that will speak from the truth
I don't know where my doubt sits
But I gotta love others as I do unto you