Sunday
 On the nineteenth day of October at one a.m.
 Nineteen ninety seven
 I had a vision
 No, well not exactly like a vision
 No but like a sight
 Well not exactly like a sight but more like a dream
 Yeah like a daydream
 Like two scenes short of a nightmare
 Except I wasn't scared
 Looking at the lines of these mean mugs
 Extremely super beamed up drugged
 Induced with extra juice in their jugs
 Try'na hold a tight hug
 To tonight's pocket rocket
 With a flicker of a spark in their eye socket plugs
 My shoulders shrugged as to the meaning of this encounter
 Trying to find something to read into
 What's this going to lead into?
 A lesson or just another brother confessing?
 Either way he's expressing mind
 But I was pressing for time
 Now show me some type of sign that your words are divine
 But he just stood there
 Speechless
 Choked up
 His talk box all broke up
 With no real use of his God giving any more just living
 I watch 'em all walk into the flames
 When they could walk into the vastness of their brains