Saturday, October 3, 2009
Man of the hour with a pocket full of power, but the hero is weak and usually subject to defeat when trying to fight the world without a Super Woman, so he shakes the city down, like a bank heist. Record release and fashion week mixing is the party. Allergic to ropes and being told no, the only man whose palms he'll ever grease is the man whose shoes in which he stands. V.V.I.P is where the seat be. Crushed grapes coat the throat, like Cold-EEZE. Surrounded by shallow fame and dames who Google names on bedazzled blackberry's; texting and AIMing, making the room look like a sea of lighters at a MJ concert with all the bright back lights. Chixs thirsty for alcohol smack their gums, signaling that they want drinks, like hungry babies, whenever thirsty tricks walk by waving dollars, like bait.
Playing the game is just that, "Playing the Game." Now you can play the game and still not like how it's played which is why the chatter of hypocrite complaining bangs around like an 8 0 8. But either way, you play it hard or sit on that bench alone, like a kicker who misses a 5yard field goal. Drunk off depression, ain't no solution to drowning yourself in sorrow, so you gotta drag ego and pride off that sorry ass ground, into the shower of self purify and sober your soul up. Counselors can counsel, but it's your job to clean yourself up. You have the keys, so it's always your choice who gets to drive.