LYRIC FOR SALE

By Cal Lee

It’s like synonymous with pastrami Deli in NY City, and them Italian Gangsters, Puerto Ricans, and what’s up to my NY niggas/lights glowing dim in the whip/like life, I’m trying to push on and have some type of future before my life light dims out/but the words, words can cave in like an old mine shaft because in 2025 love words from others, seems limited/best thing to do is check on your people/and keep your heart heavy with forgiveness/better believe the ones that love you are going to hurt you/since the beginning of time this has been at full circle/picking up the pen again is my mission/reporting the mental bruises and abuses of people today, doing you dirty/ better just clock in with a clean heart, pray, and if you believe in God, then, God got you/and in the hood, triple beams are still flexing/ain’t shit change but the game players, the game audience, and the essence of the game on both sides continue to harbor a life sentence/ruining the families with dark endings/ what you say cal ain’t got love for the hood?/man, you sound ridiculous/coming from a reform felon/keeping post and my head on swivel/because God knows every breath I take is a fight for my identity/line I recorded back in the day so cold, because in life, it’s a thin line between struggles and miracles/I sat-up all night praying for you/but the man in the mirror is asking who is praying for me/And when my great day of my departure comes, then I need to ask myself have I truly fulfilled all the potential in me? Or am I going to leave a little of me on the offering table of a disappointing remembrance. My kids if that’s the case, please forgive me/I know I was a bad father/ wish I could grab back that time that wasn’t spent being around you/as I played the part on this borrow time as an absent father/as time dwindle away from my alcohol binges, and cannot forget my drug activity/these behaviors to say without failure was my only successes/satisfying my pleasure principles as I had the audacity to label myself a career drinker/Now these behaviors are just empty spaces in my thoughts/a blank canvass sorta not/eluding my future presence from paparazzi/ my ex takes photos of me like she’s paparazzi/knowing that I hate photography/it’s painstakingly to me/ even them old photos of me as a child/that’s in rare form/ less pictures of me/ yeah, that’s in rare form/ gravitate to my reasoning on that topic is that less is more/Do you get the picture/some of us pent up on being stuck/fear or believing in myself cast a bigger shadow even when opportunities are at gain which is picture perfect/regrets smudge these moments of gain/but I carry on to the life beat of my heart thumping which every beat is notification that you are still here so just make the change.