T Clipse - September Lyrics

I guess he's dead again

Father forgive me for you know that I am always sinning
I take no interest partying with liquor fucking up my system
I take no interest partying with liqour
Father forgive me, father forgive me, father forgive me, uh

'Cause I been praying to my God wishing that this life will last
And I'm Praying to my God begging him that I don't crash
And I'm praying for a light hoping that this drive will last
'Cause I'm listening to X and it got me feeling sad well
Not really that shit just made me think
And thinking made me feel feelings put me on the brink
Of believing my whole life is in the trash or in the sink
But I still can't open tp to you like a broken link
I'm Lost, and confused I don't show it
Unless it's in my music or my life's moving the slowest
I'm not doing right it don't take a genius to know it
I lay low but still doing writes like I'm a poet
I deserve human rights but I'm getting left like I'm Oprah
I feel like I'm floating in these feelings like an ocean
I was high half the month and I ain't even into smoking
Didn't cry at all that month but I was close to I was choking
Who gon' save him? I ain't talking asphyxiation
I can't lie tho that shit was killing me like Jason
Actions I'm not taking I was just sitting round waiting
Pacing back and forth my mind is an equestrian it's racing
Our relations resembled that of Beast Boy's and Raven's
Started off one way and then changed like the moon's phases
Every day I'm thinking 'bout some new shit to stress over
Overthinking over nothing over fuck-shit I can't function
But have too if I don't have one problem then I'll have two
Like if I don't have I then how am I gon' have you?
Quit it with the lies so now from Ty you only have truth
Please don't cut my roots if I'm the one supplying you fruit
Excuse my black thoughts because my quest is to find love too

Day of the Dead's a month away
I'm thinking where the fuck's my grave?
Surprised my friends ain't turn away surprised my hair ain't turn to grey
Prize possessions I'm a slave to my thoughts and to my brain
Mental state on GTA when you engage in foul play
My gauge is full I'm wide awake, paid in full I need my cake
But I was broke as glasses on the table once it starts to shake
They don't like my conscious takes, they don't get the bars I say
They prefer some shit that's flawed that makes 'em do the Harlem Shake
Can you explain what it takes, to get a like repost and play?
Nah, fuck an explanation I work on my craft from 8 to 8
How sweet the sound amazing grace of the look on haters' faces
Once they see me doing good like Jesse Owen's relay race
Look in the mirror see my face, thinking