Monsters of Folk:
Dear God, i'm trying hard to reach you
Dear God, I see your face in all I do
Sometimes, it's so hard to believe in
But God, I know you have your reasons
Black Thought:
They said he's busy hold the line please
Call me crazy, I thought maybe he could mind read
Who does the blind lead?
Show me a sign please
If everything is made in China, are we Chinese?
And why do haters separate us like we siamese?
Technology turning the planet into zombies
Everybody all in everybody's dirty laundry
Acid rain, earthquakes, hurricane, tsunamis
Terrorist, crime sprees, assaults, and robberies
Cops yellin' stop, freeze
Shoot him before he try to leave
Air quality so foul, I gotta try to breathe
Endangered species
And we runnin' out of trees
If I could hold the world in the palm of these
Hands, I would probably do away with these anomalies
Everybody checkin' for the new award nominees
Wars and atrocities
Look at all the poverty
Ignoring the prophecies
More beef than broccoli
Corporate monopoly
Weak world economy
Stock market topplin'
Mad marijuana oxycotton and klonopin
Everybody out of it?
Monsters of Folk:
Well I've been thinking about,
And I've been breaking it down
Without an answer
I know I'm thinking aloud but if your loves
Still around why do we suffer?
Why do we suffer?
Black Thought:
Yeah... It's still me, one of your biggest fans
I get off work
Right back to work again
I probably need to go ahead and have my head exam
Look at how they got me on the Def Jam payment plan
Well, I'm in the world of entertainment and
Trying to keep a singing man sane for the paying fans
If I don't make it through the night, slight change of plans
Harp strings, angel wings, and praying hands
Lord, forgive me for my shortcomings
For going on tour and ignoring the court summons
All I'm trying to do is live life to the fullest
They sent my daddy to you in a barrage of bullets
Why is the world ugly when you made it in your image?
And why is livin' life such a fight to the finish?
For this high percentage
When the sky's the limit
A second is a minute, every hour's infinite
Monsters of Folk:
Dear God, I'm trying hard to reach you
Dear God, I see your face in all I do
Sometimes, it's so hard to believe it