Hearse Driver Used to play piano, Knew my way around a snare, Now I live accelerando, Spitting notes upon the air; So, as the days do get a-goin’,
All the notes do look so foreign, Even as my eyes are borin’, Nothing seems to a take a moorin’; Writing verses for the mountain tops, While I dwell in slade; Praying rhythm never stops, And all my vices ever slayed, And all my sins will ever fade; And even as the slavers stand, I pray my flesh is never flayed; Sentando en el mundo, Contemplando lo oculto, Y los planes grandiosos, A pasar de los payasos, Afilando mis #poemas, Y rompiendo mis dilemas, Y cortando femme fatales, Por el bien de las verdades. Ahora en alemán. Ja ich habe viele Gedichte, Doch meine Gedichte sind nicht eure; Im Laufe meiner Jahre, Habe ich meine Sprache, Für meine Ohren gefertigt, Und ich bin noch nicht fertig. En inglés otra vez. In the course of my sweet years, I’ve made my language for my ears, Despite the cheers or jeers from peers, Within this cockpit, I’m who steers, In spite of all that stands adverse, In spite of leers or acrid fears, I’m the one who drives this hearse, Time won’t simply stop for tears; Couldn't find a single dove but many swine for pen, yeah; Using gifts from far above so I can hone my ken, yeah; Some cages catch the best of sages, Got to use your watch and gauges, Sharpen crafts, avoid the traps, And write your rhymes upon the pages.