Verse 1:
I been
Talkin to God as if my name is Moses, said I worship you alone he said that claim is bogus
Cause I been pretty inconsistent where I place my focus
When I’m alone the only time he seem to take my notice
I paved this road into a corner now I can’t reverse, and if I wanna solve a problem then I gotta understand it first
I hate advice and for that I pay the price cause I kill the very same relationships that coulda saved my life
but can I just vent
I don’t wanna be forced into something just like pushpin
So I’m just blocking out the noise, presupposing intentions of the people surrounding
I probably shoulda just listened

Hook:
What’s a man to do? (Oh Lord)


Verse 2:
I been speaking to satan like some parseltounge
He make me take apart my phrases, parse words til my heart is numb
So most my days I feel subpar, at least for part of em
Partly obedient so God might take my sins and only partially pardon em
And I couldn’t blame em
I’ve birthed some problematic grudges
Probably shouldn’t name em
Cuz then I’m claiming possession
Man I could make a profession
From filling every single corner of my place with aggression
Now there’s no space for some blessings
I could use some painkillers For real it’s just
I’m pretty far from a pharmacist
walk thru every single village feelin I don’t belong in it
Like I’m parking my car ina
Handicapped spot
Any bad thoughts
Are hard to stop em from marching in
They say I’m foolin myself
Not thinkin I’m full of myself
They tryna nark on a narcissist
Apart from apartments
I never feel at home
Depart department stores with parcels hoping they can heal my soul
People split up into parties like parliament
Only problem is
I ain’t invited to em
They despise what I been doin
Cuz I decline alignment to em
If I bend to be to accepted tell me what is it I am proving
Yeah
Mind of a genius the heart of an artist
Cuz
Down to the bone
how far in my scars is
Pathetic, worthless
Or poetic purpose?
To live as a scrivener
Too bad I’m more like Bartleby than Barnabas
Cuz thats never been what my target is
Should be hard to miss but
Then again I’m no Artemis
I’m praying on my tombstone no letters are scarlet
If I don’t ever grow up how can I measure my harvest?
Maybe it don’t really matter like pleasuring harlots
As long as dues is paid
Then it’s whatever it’s nonsense
put Respect On my carcass
A Caucus of liars
Around
Pick up the glock stop cock it and fire
Then hop up in the cockpit and fly up out of this hellhole
I ain’t never coming back here homie hell no
Rippin away from this place I was stuck to like Velcro
But then I leave behind everything I ever felt for

Hook:
What’s a man to do? Oh Lord what’s a man to do? (Oh well)