Empty

I won't leave you,
In this hopeless world alone,
I won't leave you,
To be stranded on your own,
I will heal you,
When you're feeling all alone,
I won't let you,
Drown in sorrows of the world.

I'll be there for you,
I'll be there for you,
I'll be there for you,
I'll be there for you,
I'll be there for you.
I'll be there for you...

What do you do when the world has got you feeling empty?

One minute you're up floating like a balloon,
The next it's pop, you're a joke house; red bums on a baboon

Life is like the moon, full of seasons,
And mine has been twilight seemingly bright but unfortunately upside down

My family has tried to keep me grounded despite my ill relationship with gravity that keeps toying with me,

It has me up so high then back down so the struggles never over, I'm still trying to emulate my idols so I'm never idle

I'm pushing the throttle but the hustle gets me puzzled  waiting on a dream wondering if that's all it will ever be...

And while you're at it, the world keeps moving at a tremendous speed so fast your body disagrees you start to bleed

You'd like to be of use to those in need but everything's bleak you're that friend atalina work, the one dodging bills

So you console yourself that broke isn't forever and hell's for eternity so to reign over your sanity you stay true to you,

But who you are is a mess, you're a positive litmus test for a sinner at his best yet before the rest you're a "saint."

What do you do when the world has got you feeling empty?

You get employed but you start to feel like misery has been deployed at your door demanding of you like a landlord,

Ayeh, not many have your job but boy oh boy are you annoyed, your boss keeps treating you like a useless toy,

And you're thinking you can't take it anymore but the world is hungry and ready to swallow you if you let go,

So you eight to five, diligently make it to work on time and like the rest you try to be grateful for your miserable life...

What do you do when the world has got you feeling empty?

Sometimes its hard to be grateful. I'm prayerful but I can't help but feel like God's own handpicked musoga fool

So it often feels like I'm a set up; a tool he uses for his jokes oh so cruel and I have the world entertained by my pain.

I'm not a fun of cars, shoes, clothes and jewels, I'm a simple person but I'd like to walk into a showroom and not drool...

it's even harder in a world where we have to burry our insecurities and flex on the gram like we have no worries.

So we're out here trying to create new revenue streams ayeh, we still treak home from our gigs and live like our tax bills are late.

I can't even afford love, I can't pay for a  date. So my potential lover is telling me I'm late and how long must she wait?