The Heat

Could be the heat
Could be the beat
Want the best
Want the rest of waste
To fade away,
Throwing it back to all
The lack in me,
Instant pleasure is the
New measure,
Sit and stir a people without
Father God, father good,
Dad was mad in his dreams
It bled severely into our
Hatred is all I can conjure
When I ponder of your
Message to me, I am loud
But I am scared,
The sting of death has
Taken it’s place,
Be mine, be this beat in
This heat, I want it all Lord
And Friday is the reminder that
You are the remainder,
Master and commander of
This broken life and these
Broken dreams

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