Noah by Kamanha

In order to understand this, you must first learn who Noah really is.

In my birth certificate…they never mentioned what it takes

To get an interview for a job of misery and higher stakes

Speaking of stakes…I wonder what that beefy bitch is doing today

“the worst leech”? Bitch, please…ease…let’s rewind and replay 

Hi all I’m Noah and fuck you, by the way

I don’t mean to insult you but it’s just what my family never taught me not to like to say

Let me walk you through, you see, I’m a strip club emcee

And being 43, accused of murder of the 3rd degree, with no son or daughter don’t mean shit to me

My wife left me because I’m a pathetic idiot

To think it was a good idea to cheat on her on her period

But it’s only because I wanted to change the club’s name to “the ark”, but I couldn’t convince the owner

So I seduced his wife…I played catch with the bitch, I threw her a boner

Just to be called “Noah of the ARK” an idea done when I’m drunk and thought of when I was sober

I must be sick…And an ambulance just pulled me over

Don’t blame a man who works at a place where everyone’s got an IQ of a retarded squirrel tricked by monopoly dollars

Damn, I see zombies dancing and racing for money, I call them Pole Walkers

So, I’m not sure why my wife got mad when I said she’s just a “hole”…I dig her

I need a shrink because, you know, I don’t want it to get any bigger

I always stand corrected and then I usually sit angered and irritated

Throughout my life, I kept wondering… What if I got well-educated things would’ve surely been alternated

My inaniloquence would’ve been blemished, no encumbrance to stay up through the Twelfth Night

And grandiloquently quote Macbeth

I wonder if my life would’ve been an opalescent and to put it pauciloquently flee the truculent

oubliette of my living death

Maybe I could’ve written a surreal poem for my wife and with originality and delightful verbal freshness draw asunder

the curtains hiding my disdained sordid tears

Or appeased to be an oculist and have children in a cleaner sty. Or maybe write an embellished panegyric as the

best man to eradicate my best friend’s -that I could’ve had by the way- fears

Or maybe a megalomaniacal and a maladroit control-freak, the worst critique of the antique land of the derelict

and the vociferous

Would I have been deleterious or innocuous? Would I gnathonize the devil in distress

or instead, admonish the empyrean for his bliss

But then again, I’m not sure who I would’ve been, either way; it’s not my place to meddle

In this hoosegow where our integrity sells for so little

Birds cry and flowers wizen suns fly and a chance for darkness is given

Words lost, destinies forgotten and eyes shut, no visage of the world I live in

And from within the depth I hear a crescendo of a lonesome clown’s laughter

haha somewhere deep down here, there could be a cure for cancer

But, too bad, Noah. Your ark sunk you so deep, sailor. Wished you can see what I can see

But tonight I, your “would’ve and could’ve been”, will sleep and tomorrow you’ll wake up to go on being

The horny people’s filthy MC.

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