Don’t stand near a bucket
As you might unwittingly kick it
Don’t put the blade in your pocket
As it might end up in your heart
In our preoccupation to make a hit
We usually end up hitting wrong targets
The victim, being ourselves first
Then your very best friend next
While his might be a death sentence
Yours is life, strewn in vile sentences.

Yea, keep puffing the black smoke
Lining white powders in strokes
Getting high and lost in coke
Till you start seeing dead folks
Then you gasps like you’re in head choke
Panting like you’re having a stroke
Working towards the next fix is a yoke
The brunt of it all cos you’re the joke
You walk dead, think dead, look dead
And the last to know that you’re dead.

You sell your soul on a guilt trip
You’re loved by all is a good trick
Think you’re ageless like an oak tree
Walking high on a cloud trills
Paying by blood like it’s a good treat
You love fast life but it’s damn fast
All fast forwarded to your demise
You have it all, but you miss a bit
Lil laugh, lil tears, lil love, lil fear
And that’s cos you’re a dead man

Written by: Adeolu Adesanya
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson

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