Figures/ number game
It seems like all our life all we do is play the numbers game,
The sperm that swims the fastest after its been shot wins first place, collides with its mate and turns into a zygote, hibernates and fully forms.
After 9months, it's an honor to have you, a
nd the clock starts counting it's- numbers
you're squealing, You probably know all you're going to be doing in this seemingly forsaken place is chase after misery
Ayeh, everyone else around you is rejoicing.
Luckily you can't see them so you carry on un wavered like a rock so they rock you, soothe you until you stop, and the game continues...
A couple of months down the road
it's your first birth day,
and from zero you all over sudden turned hero,
they celebrate you, you've now been seduced and have come to terms with certain things,
You enjoy the sweeter things of life, cake, attention, care and what not.
You go through baby , middle, and top class, then back into the numbers system: P1,
and the game continues.
You're handed report cards,
assessed by the numbers,
You're posessed by the numbers,
Some don't care about the numbers,
Some don't make it through because they don't understand the numbers,
Some never make it in because back at home they are low on the numbers.
Down the road you climb up the scholar levels,
The numbers there are much more frustrating,
But those that didn't make it are trying to-
put two and two together to make it but the numbers just don't add up.
Little do you know about the outside world,
you're just eager to count- figures, you can't wait to mature,
your heart has been triggered, induced by sweet numbers,
Never to realise that once you're set free,
the numbers don't lie, and your clock is ticking,
and the game continues...
You've graduated , the social pressure is on,
if you're not careful it turns you on,
You start to act queer just to keep it together, you figure,
That a nice set clothes will get you up and going and stack you up on your followers,
You like the views, the numbers tell you truths that in reality aren't true but they keep you astute,
you're feeding your ego but little do you know that you're going to face the legal - consequences,
You can put on a show that social statistics don't show;
Ayeh, if you're numbers are truly low
there's only just how far you can go before it blows,
and the game continues...
You're just too old to be chasing social numbers,
Your better half at home needs you to up your pocket numbers,
Your parents think you're grown you should get your self together,
Your homies are moving on you feel slightly under the weather,
You start to ask your self whether you'll keep up with the pressure of, chasing numbers before you start to wither...
So you get a job that's secure and pays okay- numbers,
Your boss has experience in his figures and figures,
He should milk you out as your superior to up his numbers,
You're now a slave at best but you hang in there because you need those numbers.
Your kids are growing older, you forgot how it started,
so you make them climb the same ladder.
You're too bothered by the outside world to make them better travellers,
And the game continues...
Your clocks run out, you should have know that when it got to twelve,
you remember how all you wanted was to grow older,
you forgot to live because you were busy chasing numbers,
You were Stacking up on accolades pumped up by minute made instead of drinking fresh lemonade...
Now it's November, you lost the fight to cancer, it made your numbers plunder, your family starts to wonder, where you're at down as you slumber, does your good outweigh your slander, don't be out there chasing numbers, live right don't live for others, fulfill your life with purpose 'fore you head back to the one...
It seems like all our life all we do is play the numbers game,
The sperm that swims the fastest after its been shot wins first place, collides with its mate and turns into a zygote, hibernates and fully forms.
After 9months, it's an honor to have you, a
nd the clock starts counting it's- numbers
you're squealing, You probably know all you're going to be doing in this seemingly forsaken place is chase after misery
Ayeh, everyone else around you is rejoicing.
Luckily you can't see them so you carry on un wavered like a rock so they rock you, soothe you until you stop, and the game continues...
A couple of months down the road
it's your first birth day,
and from zero you all over sudden turned hero,
they celebrate you, you've now been seduced and have come to terms with certain things,
You enjoy the sweeter things of life, cake, attention, care and what not.
You go through baby , middle, and top class, then back into the numbers system: P1,
and the game continues.
You're handed report cards,
assessed by the numbers,
You're posessed by the numbers,
Some don't care about the numbers,
Some don't make it through because they don't understand the numbers,
Some never make it in because back at home they are low on the numbers.
Down the road you climb up the scholar levels,
The numbers there are much more frustrating,
But those that didn't make it are trying to-
put two and two together to make it but the numbers just don't add up.
Little do you know about the outside world,
you're just eager to count- figures, you can't wait to mature,
your heart has been triggered, induced by sweet numbers,
Never to realise that once you're set free,
the numbers don't lie, and your clock is ticking,
and the game continues...
You've graduated , the social pressure is on,
if you're not careful it turns you on,
You start to act queer just to keep it together, you figure,
That a nice set clothes will get you up and going and stack you up on your followers,
You like the views, the numbers tell you truths that in reality aren't true but they keep you astute,
you're feeding your ego but little do you know that you're going to face the legal - consequences,
You can put on a show that social statistics don't show;
Ayeh, if you're numbers are truly low
there's only just how far you can go before it blows,
and the game continues...
You're just too old to be chasing social numbers,
Your better half at home needs you to up your pocket numbers,
Your parents think you're grown you should get your self together,
Your homies are moving on you feel slightly under the weather,
You start to ask your self whether you'll keep up with the pressure of, chasing numbers before you start to wither...
So you get a job that's secure and pays okay- numbers,
Your boss has experience in his figures and figures,
He should milk you out as your superior to up his numbers,
You're now a slave at best but you hang in there because you need those numbers.
Your kids are growing older, you forgot how it started,
so you make them climb the same ladder.
You're too bothered by the outside world to make them better travellers,
And the game continues...
Your clocks run out, you should have know that when it got to twelve,
you remember how all you wanted was to grow older,
you forgot to live because you were busy chasing numbers,
You were Stacking up on accolades pumped up by minute made instead of drinking fresh lemonade...
Now it's November, you lost the fight to cancer, it made your numbers plunder, your family starts to wonder, where you're at down as you slumber, does your good outweigh your slander, don't be out there chasing numbers, live right don't live for others, fulfill your life with purpose 'fore you head back to the one...
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