Cigarette Daydream

 

Back to escaping emotion found some time over more lyrical meditation.

 

Music knows I suppose it will do well with a new creation.

 

Feet thrown up out the window never did I need thought provoking sunglasses.

 

I just wanted to write some good love down to share it with the real masses.

 

I wasn't what I was made out to be I'd just have to take them all on an adventure.

 

Don't worry be happy it will all soon begin to align with venture.

 

Cigarette daydream it surly began like something like that.

 

But I wasn't being played a fool this time its something I kept with a sweet hat.

A work in progress I was but facing trouble It was time to help myself.

 

Looking for inspiration I decided to create it on a blog like it was a warming shelf.

 

Blues rocked my trial, hip hop my smile and reggae my soul.

 

Music made me into something I was keeping it alongside my goal.

 

Took a step off vanity's little book with only a good heart in mind.

 

Was shoving supposed love back in a person's face the best thing you can find?

 

I guess I did the same thing in a way so am I the hypocrite.

 

Possibly the reason behind gave way to seeing through it.

 

I was taking it slow I knew I had perspective to allow new things to glow.

 

Maybe I needed that tattoo to rectify what I really had to show.

 

So I threw my white flag as a surrendering but yet clear sign.

 

You're just walking down an old road that's not going to allow what you want to align.

 

Trip down memory lane the old tape deck was enough to sing along.

 

But real sweet radio talk to me always seemed like enough to fix the wrong.

A skinny love he could only save himself from the pain.

Was the pain served to be a burden to allow for a certain new kind of bang?

Pussy, money and weed wasn't that the motto that Wayne gave way to Drake?

Young money records I had better rhymes up against more at stake.

Chics and their charm yeah the herb causes me no alarm.

Teaching Kendrick real poetic justice aint no fake farm.

Really miss misery is only the result of lack of communication.

Probably why so many hearts are broken over fornication.

But wasn't that track always sung about the west coast.

Push, push and coast this ones bound to end in a toast.

That's right when surf was blown I took to that GFH board.

Holding onto my mind I asked the wind what could be scored?

A heart that could understand what was carried all along.

Memories like that I know missing Rasta is where I went wrong.

But with a lil cypress it was like back to hits to the bong.

Cause waking up to some Sublime in nature was always the suiting song.

Encinitas always kept the vibe of we the cleanest.
Baddest cars, beaches and chics west coast was always the meanest.