The hip hop king and bebop princess
live together in a house full of incense
Discussing daytime soaps and Socrates
praying to Buddha and drinking gin on bended knees.
They live with Bourgeois guilt and Proletariat anger
she feels as though the world is always trying to hang her
For eating from the tree of un-compromised dreaming
and surviving on the streets that always seem to be teeming
with fear-mongers and false flag operations
To have a soul these days takes a lot of dedication
the middle path is now a detour that leads straight to frustration
the king is now left to ponder wether to leave his own nation.
These monarch of free thought now pay no heed to the world
they live a microcosmic life with macro-love that's unfurled
They've found a way to survive any kind of destruction
by giving in to their hearts without any obstructions.
