Feeling smug as a thug,
as confident as a king
the rush of there looks
there thoughts of lustful things
like beings that crave seem to be in there eye
i can see there want as i begin to walk by
never have i felt better more powerful than this with nothing but sin at my side sin and bliss can it get any better i dont think so i give her a wink that melts her soul
i give them what they crave all part of the show all part of the performance i let em know who is the king the alpha of the room as i walk through the club behind me a gloom left in the eyes of the imposters who thought they could beat me but they dont have nothin nothin on me the indiviual king as i rule from the throne of lavish looks and bedroom eyes that hold a little bit more than a promise intellect too as the poet within me writes a rose that blooms in the eyes of the audience as the aw and swoon over the majestics of an articulate madman yes i am the sage who cackles in the background of my own cerrebellum yes i tell them what they want to hear i look them in the eyes i whisper in there ear for i am the poet true author true king of my own universe my words like spring like springs new beginning like summers loving rush like falls beautiful changes like winters harsh touch i give enough just to fill them to the brink of there cup my poetry my poetry yes it is enough from the king