the blue is for the color of the collar of my mother and my father plus the scholars that we be the blue is for the nighttime mood swinging tune of every bluesman singing what its like to not be free i want to be the conduit moving the music among the masses hit the spot rock upon sight like medusa as the true surpass the wicked used to sneak in shows without a ticket till i slowly got familiar with the local promoters hoping to blow focused on the open mic not claiming to be the dopest i just want to be noticed to find producers in the circuit to work with for certain it was hurting at first fucking with studio virgins to purge the wack i download the upgraded version now performing our percussions constructed up by the persian beatmaker extraordinaire you talk about the journey but we re taking it there paying a fare say it again said the blue is for the color of the collar of my mother and my father plus the scholars that we be the blue is for the nighttime moon swinging tune of every bluesman singing what its like to not be free the blue is for the water and sky in the middle of the fire i burn to find the light in the darkness the blue is for the color of the bruise we use to be reminded that the body isn t made to be timeless the blue is for the ocean we cross to foreign lands where we work with our hands and home is where we stand where the poetry swims in the lunacy of moonshine light reflected right upon the surface of skin verses burst out the pen like it hurt not to be written you immature amateur writers are copy kittens in the coffee shop kids are spitting individualistic petty boujee pseudo revolutionary bullshit don t miss this resistance is more than just a fist in a wristband and incense that won t make you free fuck a bachelor s degree i d much rather defeat the evil thieves in my scenery seemingly detached indeed as we proceed to see the heathen meet his match and everything not giving up we take it back i bleed upon a track my verse written in red the blue is for the balance yes and everything i said i said  the blue is for the color of the collar of my mother and my father plus the scholars that we be the blue is for the nighttime moon swinging tune of every bluesman singing what its like to not be free the blue is for the water and sky in the middle of the fire i burn to find the light in the darkness the blue is for the color of the bruise we use to be reminded that the body isn t made to be timeless1