A man's initial and primary home is his mind
This is the virtual world he lives in as he terraforms his physical place to resemble it
This projection can be the keys to freedom
Or an absolute prison that evily adapts to retain the inmate
The world then can be a sort of holodeck
That we properly or improperly operate
What happens when we find ourselves being the subject
Rather than the subjector
When in Rome do as the Romans do
And when in hell do as the demons do.
Gradually the cheers start getting softer
Now you hear the fears when they start to haunt you
Over years people said you had so much to offer
But never did one thing long enough to prosper
Now you wonder what's the purpose
Your worth is less appealing when that point of view reverses
Your floor looks like the ceiling plus it's peeling
And the cracks are all around
But if you're all alone when that wall is falling down does it make a sound?
They say the edge is only scary if you're scared to step
Well I ain't scared to see, at least that's what I told myself
Everything and nothing less, diving into nothingness
Choking while I'm taking breaths
Drowning when there's nothing left
Catching wind crawling from an ocean I can't recommend
Because you might not make it back
Buy I'm know I'm going in...again
To that Place
When our initial environment is invaded by danger And fear.
By concrete reality.
Do we behave like the endangered?
Or do we mimic the danger.
Feet dragging through the gravel I was passing by the Chapel
Holding on by a thread after everything unraveled
They say you're a step ahead when I'm walking on my travels
So an answer I expect, unless I'm following my shadow
So I'm asking for a start. Could you ever be offended?
Is it possible to hate what is created in your image?
And why do you get the credit, when you know you can prevent it?
And I'm speaking from the heart. So how could I repent it if I meant it?
And is any type of challenge worth the balance of another fate?
Knowing that it's full of grace but you never see the face…
In that Place
Hook (Dejuan Dante)
Do we supply an equal counter response?
Isn't this how we survive?
How we conquer what has been imposed upon us.
Last fall I grabbed a seat and reminisced about it all
Crack a beer in agitation
Because opinions got involved, I recalled a confrontation
I was bracing from a light snub in a dimly lit club
They said I didn't have it when they didn't know what “it” was
But it was enough to get to get my shit up
Cursing at the top of my Corona “I don't give a fuck”
Then I saw her tip up, whispered while I sipped up
Dropping wisdom blending with that rhythm while it switched up
“What about the feelings and the spirits that you lift up?
If you can't see that value you should give your gift up.”
She finished up her vent
She got herself together on her merry way she went
She was gone but the wise words lingered with her scent
And for the next 6 months that was the best 20 dollars that I spent
In that Place
Every man has an unspoken obligation to their pain
To gain the rights of a beast he submits to suffering
Or suffers the squalor of a coward
So we are daring as a precondition for living
from Soul of Summer Vol. 1
track released September 21, 2016
Written and produced by the BraneTrust. Poetry by Dejuan Dante. Background vocals by Ozy Reigns, Sax by Jorge Wesly
all rights reserved