Yeah... Blink and life as you know it'll be all over in a jiff, Dream and thought clouds hang over every council block brick, One lad sitting down with a nice cup of tea and a spliff, Thinking, "What the hell does all of this mean, only if..." The world keeps spinning, The bills keep billing, The kettle keeps boiling, The villains keep villaining... But... It ain't all bad, bro. I was sixteen staring out a tenth-floor flat, Watching blue lights flash where the playground sat, Mum said "Stay focused," Dad said "Stay strong," The Endz said "Come outside," Now who was wrong? Cause everybody's got advice when the fridge ain't full, When the stress gets heavy and the mind gets pulled, When the landlord's knocking and the wages are late, And your future looks smaller than the hole in the gate. Question though, yeah.. If money buys freedom, Why do rich men panic? Why's the man with the mansion still acting frantic? If fame means happiness, Why they all depressed? Why's the bloke with millions still losing his head? I stood in the darkness searching for meaning, Looking through the cracks where the light was beaming, Thinking maybe life's just random pieces, Then I saw beauty hidden in the creases. A pensioner smiling feeding pigeons in rain, Still laughing somehow through decades of pain, And I thought... Maybe resilience is wealth. Maybe peace is success. Maybe some of us spend years chasing less. It ain't all bad, bro, Put the kettle on slow, Put the worries outside, Let the good times grow. It ain't all bad, bro, Light the spliff, sip tea, If the world's gone mad, Don't let it infect me. It ain't all bad, bro, Even storm clouds pass, Sometimes life's just sitting with your mates, Having a nice cup of tea and a spliff, Watching the madness laugh. Now listen... Three a.m. Estate looking cinematic, Fox in the car park acting problematic, Neighbour's arguing over bins again, One man's screaming about aliens. I nearly lost it laughing. Then Dave from block seven appeared in sliders, Wearing a dressing gown covered in tigers, Holding a sausage roll and a broken umbrella, Shouting: "THE GOVERNMENT'S AFTER MY CHEDDAR!" Bruv. Funniest thing I ever witnessed. But underneath humour, Underneath jokes, Everybody's carrying invisible loads. The single mum working two jobs for survival, The old school raver still chasing revival, The young kid drawing stars in a workbook, Dreaming of worlds that the estate never could. So tell me... What if the struggle ain't punishment? What if it's preparation? What if every bad chapter Is setting up the narration? Twisted thoughts in a torrent of turbulent terminology, Tracking traumatic triggers through trapped psychology, Mentally measuring mirrored maze mythology, Trying to find truth through technological astrology. Rapidly rattling riddles in rhythmical regions, Building brilliant belief systems battling demons, Deep in the detail deciphering delusions, While the world's wide web keeps feeding confusion. Click-click-scroll-scroll, Brain on overload, Everybody's got opinions, Nobody knows. Quick-witted cynical critical visual miracles, Typical digital cynical political syllables, Spinning and spiralling, Whirling and wiring, Thoughts doing donuts while the neurons are firing. Tell me... Who are you when nobody's watching? Who are you when the applause stops dropping? Who are you when you're alone with your soul? That's the real profile. Not the one on your phone. It ain't all bad, bro, Put the kettle on slow, Put the worries outside, Let the good times grow. It ain't all bad, bro, Light the spliff, sip tea, If the world's gone mad, Don't let it infect me. Saw a young boy kick a football today, Dreaming Premier League from an alleyway, And for a second the whole estate changed, Into possibility beyond the pain. Cause hope's a strange thing. Can't buy it. Can't steal it. Can't trap it. Can't deal it. Yet somehow it survives every setback, Every heartbreak, Every failed comeback. Maybe life's not about avoiding scars, Maybe they're maps showing where we are. Maybe the cracks let the sunlight through, Maybe the storm teaches what skies can do. Maybe we're all just temporary passengers, Trying to become better managers, Of the chaos, The madness, The sadness, The laughter, Writing our stories chapter after chapter. The rain still falls. The rent still comes. The world still spins. The kettle still hums. But tonight... The tea tastes better. The music sounds louder. The future feels closer. And the burden feels lighter. So if you're out there stressing, Questioning everything, Staring into the dark wondering what comes after... Remember this... It ain't all bad, bro. Not today. Not while we're still here. Storm clouds fade when the kettle sings, tea and a spliff, now everything swings. Still standing. Still smiling...
