Death Of A Prick (Part One)

Let me tell you bout a certain brain
Age 38
A grey work a day germ that you learn to hate
He seen his future pass
Seen the moon and Mars
He'd never once seen the beauty of a shooting star
Cause life was moving fast
He would jog along
He'd say he knew his path
But he was often wrong
He used to woff about freedom and honour lots
Till he got a job tappin keys in an office block
Chattin breeze to the sheep in a rotten flock
Got the boss naggin having peeks at his pocket watch
Used to spit when he was minor
Sickest in the cypher
Now he's jiggling his hips to life's tick ticking timer
Nit picking miser
Thick skin conniver
Kids he isn't wise he'a a dim witted iver still
In the bar he would sip sip a cider
Try spinning yarn sick as silk from a spider
But, he couldn't move for the chicken beak saliva
Same picking a peck pecking the pickled peter piper
Swim deep or diva
Shit gripped his mind, he pick picked a wife
Now the prick beats and bites her
His dick wriggling inside her he has a kid
Down to the same brass habits of that protagonist
Man he stayed average
Said he was a pacifist
Yeah still kept a jackhammer handy on some aggy shit
Man he hasn't lived
A tattered pack of fibs
Shuffled and dealt with
A manufactured masochist
Yeah son he was selfish
Huggin' a checklist
The sun ticked sun kissed summers become blitz
It done nothing but life's basic requirements
Wasted as time straight faced in the silence
Basically mindless
Faithfully misled
Pisshead
Grade A's hazy and misspent
Caked in a thick stench of hatred and sick stress
Sensors of grim chest pain as the shit spread
Shit went wrong
He's kissin' deaths feet up
Screamin' I ain't finished yet
Isn't death sweet bruv?
It's the story of a breh I never knew
I'm just sure he isn't me
I'm just sure he isn't me son
Deep ones
Sleep 'till the dream's done