Sometimes I write shit like this and I'm not not sure why
Age ain't nothing but the number of years you've been alive. And me, I'm dead inside half the time. So my face has lines, but cut me open and the rings are four or five. Child-like I think in rhyme like story time: Hey diddle diddle the cat scratches fiddle but life rambles riddles, you rats act so little, it's time I skadittle. Pack up your blocks and balls, your socks and dolls, play time is over ya'll. Time to walk and not crawl. Cut new teeth to eat meat, taste the truth and believe. Time to do, not to dream; time to do what we dreamed, time to know what it means, know the "is" not the "seems." It's time to be free, it's time to be free.