Post Traumatic Stress Disorder - Pharoahe Monch

Fuck you know about struggle?

The boy in the plastic bubble

When I drink away the pain I guzzle

My life is like a complicated mathematical puzzle, for real

Seen death twice, it’s ugly motherfucker man

But you conversate with him when you suffering

He said, «Let go of the pain, you’ll never rock the mic again

Your choice, slug to the brain or 20 Vicodin»

I kinda likened it to Ortho Tri-Cyclen

Disturbing the natural cycles of life and it’s trifling

Fuck what you heard, less money more problems

4 years removed from the game with no album

I put the gun to my brain, but first I wrote a note to explain

Put the Luger in my head, and these are the words that I said

Sure as kingdoms rise the same kingdoms will surely fall

And wash away like memories, as if they weren’t there at all

Like broken limbs of trees that’s lost its leaves to Winter’s wind

Spring will come again.

Live…

Live…

Live…

Live

When your cerebral ceases to administer solace

And the only Faith you have left is a CD

From a singer who had a son with Christopher Wallace

Tomorrow is never

Hope is abolished

Mind and soul have little to no unity

Life threw a brick through my window of opportunity

My immune system lacked diplomatic immunity

When asthma attacks the black community

Where do you go from there?

Long walk, short pier

Thought I knew all it was just to know of the ledge

Till I glanced down at all ten toes on the ledge

Before I heard what sounded to me like a pledge

Emerged from the darkness, and this is what it said

«Do not despair, breathe, fight

For there is more life to live, believe

More insight to share, retrieve

Must dare to be illustrious

Exhale, hold, inhale, receive and live…

Live…

Live…

Live…»