(I don't like too long writes, but I could not hold this one back. It is painful always being called a madman for professing and proliferating The Truth. But I know: Nuk-Ba-Rah. One. ~Ikoro) There are times when I want be alone. All alone. 'Cause possibly, My philosophy, Scars the minds of the weak. In the streets they diss me For the way I dress But they are in fact impressed And would surely miss me Should I disappear. I fear For the fate of the masses The transnational corporations Trespasses Against our rights Our fights Are not with eachother But with them Don't hate your brother For living a lie Or your sister for dressing like one Don't beat your wife in ignorance Because father like son He will become. Like you. Our fights are not with eachother But with them Not with eachother... So I gaze upon the moon Seeing beautiful sunrays upon the moon. All alone still Because lack of will Has universal truth Being measured in mass appeal. Standing amidst the crowd I would find In the darkest corners of my mind, A hollow place. A place For misplaced Anger and frustration Desperation Grips my heart And tangles me up in Cobwebs of self-paradoxical Paradigms. Modern day escapism And words that are too Big to understand Take my hand And pretend you can't hear. Because clearly, we don't Belong here. Too black for your own good, To white for your old hood. I thought they understood What it meant to be excluded. Secluded now, and forever pissed off. But even if I cry alone sometimes, I will never get soft. For Our fight is not with eachother But with them.