Staring Demons Down

[INTRO – Spoken / slow cadence]

First, let’s clear the air—

This ain’t about profanity, it’s about clarity.

No action unless I’m defending

A never-ending spiral of sanity bending.

 

I ain’t above the rage or the flame,

But I won’t let cussing cloud what I’m tryna explain.

That don’t mean no demons live inside me,

Or that obscenity is blasphemy entirely.

 

It’s just—when my double-edged diction gets twisted,

Sometimes I spit a curse just to show what I’ve witnessed.

 

[VERSE 1 – Mid-tempo, direct flow]

So I’m not condemning those who let loose,

Words are tools—predictive of inner truths.

Premeditated pain has a root cause,

A broken man ignoring court-ordered laws.

 

Resentment builds like unpaid rent,

No savings left—just what addiction spent.

Birthday cards turned into dope and dents,

Till you’re laid out, praying this is all pretend.

 

But life ain’t fiction, nothing stable,

Any religion mixed in just cracks the table.

Internal war—Cain and Abel’s cradle,

This ain’t nurturing, this is fatal.

 

I never became who I set out to be,

I wanted God, but pride poisoned me.

Like King Midas—I got greedy,

No humility, no path that freed me.

 

I left behind the Christian crusader,

Denied tradition, skipped the Seder.

Said I’d face my faith later…

But salvation wasn’t waiting with favors.

 

If light exists, then dark must too—

And somewhere, the two must fuse.

 

[VERSE 2 – Aggressive wordplay, rising pace]

The clue’s opposite of triple six—

A mirrored number: negative six-sixty-six.

Add 'em up—one-three-three-two,

Then break that down, digit by digit too.

 

1 + 3 + 3 + 2 = 9.

Nine—a flipped six, a trick in time.

Biblical scholars say nine is complete,

Without dark, there’s no light to keep.

 

Balance breathes where opposites meet,

You can label this “Godless,” call it deceit.

But Solomon knew—power and mystique,

Tapping mysticism, no garnish, just heat.

 

Kabbalah unlocked surreal visions,

Ancient texts, unholy missions.

Semjaza fell—angel to demon,

Bound for seventy gens, beneath Eden.

 

Don’t call it Satanism, read the source—

The Book of Enoch—off the canon’s course.

 

[CODA – Slow, poetic fade-out]

No angels left to sing a heralded sound,

When I’m gone, I return to ground.

Not a trumpet blast, just a silent drown,

No glory crown, just earth and sound.

 

Mock me, laugh, spin it around—

But in the end…

We all face our inner demons down.