What Is The Profit?

[Papa] I peer through the glaaaass But I don't see that face That worn out baseball caaaap Sunglasses sittin' on that hat Yeah I'm fuckin' sad, another man to put in the book stacks The will of the world is pencil thin We're all at the will of imperfect sin So I look to the sky 'n' ask if there is a god again Or maybe some ill facade, multiple powers manipulatin' us like puppets Destruction, death Overconsumption Jesse, Kristy, my uncles, my aunties Two friends from high school, wrapped in vines binding Cancers, a virus, sickened trojans Got me feelin' like a Roman Angered at the gods, buncha trick showmen [Chorus] I'm in a rut Can't think to write I don't know.... I don't know if I'll see you all again Seems like the hope is my only friend Guess I'll just... Sit down and write with this pen and imagine [Papa] I'm just fuckin angry, I wanna blame a god but I don't even know if the book reads right If it's you then you took 'em all out of spite! Health issues and debts ta spike their lives like a punch bowl, you punch holes, sellin' out the worth What am I worth? I've lived through curse of bein' pursed as a servant served 'pon a platter swerved on a swivel, fury internal til it fizzles Really what's the point to a book with no logic? Expect me to believe when it causes debates between scholars, ain't hangin' this skeleton in my closet til a miracle deposits Positives I can acknowledge, but it's ridiculous to think I'm indebted to prophet...yeah Took 'em all for your angelic moshpit? What's the fuckin' profit? [Chorus] I don't know if I'll see you all again Seems like the hope is my only friend Guess I'll just Sit down and write with this pen and imagine... [Papa] Hey Lee, Caleb, hey Dad I know I don't have it bad but I'm tellin' you behind all this anger I'm just feelin' sad With all of the loss I wonder why I was left Left on a blank path, I'm empathic stretchin' thin, feelin' everyone's feelins, this path is elastic, pullin' me every which way, brain twists insane, I'm sick of this game, yeah they say don't say names invain, they say they say, believe a witch, believe a bitch, still expect me to believe God's not sick? Create soul's that twitch, peruse an egotistic divine light, til it blinds and binds us to a webbed strife My heart is...epileptic, crowded Anaphylactic, allergic to religious ticks, to be realistic, my heart skips a beat but the urge of creating symphony never let's me skip these beats I know i got music, my writing, my family, and all inside that I'm hiding Just tired of loss and wondering why I'm left, blundered, was I not enough for the taking? Just fuckin' tell me What is the profit? [Chorus] I don't know if I'll see you all again Seems like the hope is my only friend Guess I'll just Sit down and write with this pen and imagine...