Still Breathing in the Furnace

**(Verse 1)**

Yo, one of few men who made the devil flee, nine miles ‘round,

Streets erupt, Humvees shot down—repairs can’t rebound.

Still breathin’ in the furnace? Summer’s twisted fun.

Satan in your dome now, shuttin’ ya down—mouth taped shut, done.

Devil huntin’? Ride with me; steel cocks back. Left the scene exact—

no ties to kids or badges. One hour flat,

I scream ‘round corners where my soldiers sat, soon news-van packed.

Tell ya—they turned guns ‘gainst themselves, flatlined, impact

dead on the block; mutual wreckage. So I crashed back

to sleep—truth’ll surface. Dawn cracks—spine aches, combat?

Funeral bound. Clothes on—hated universal, cobra-cold.

No hope for me—maybe for homies, though, untold.

 

**(Verse 2)**

Mind’s a locked cage—trapped inside, no release.

Hate the glass face—nowhere to hide, peace deceased.

Satan murmurs—pride fed, feast

turns soul charcoal, swallows light, ceased.

Rage fought daily, darkness wins—bright deceased.

My own worst foe—chains cinched tight, no decrease.

Hell’s my address—no end in sight, lease increased.

Post-funeral sigh—folks whisper, "Cynical beast?"

Nah—furnace vision seared. Slow agony, veiled, unreleased.

Devil converses, face-to-face, truth increased.

Bedbound—voices swarm the dome. Dreamt the block alone,

horned figure emerged—Glock to my crown, stone-cold.

Dead brethren rose from the zone—

skins shadowed, demon-atoned. Satan shone,

open field—grinned, "Kid, how’s it go?"

Grabbed Christ’s cross—struck with ice flow.

He dodged—throttled my throat, showed loss’s tableau.

Forced my gaze to friends—"Elias, Amir, twelve mo’.

Soon they roll with me—plenty where I dwell."

Truth? Couldn’t care less—they forged my hell.

Childhood iced, self-scorned—cold-cut synergy dwells.

Chemically propped. Soul’s scarred battlefield, silent yells.

Self-hate deep—demon conclave swells.

Anger boils—extremes compel.

Resilience tested—shattered machine tells.

War on myself—no truce, farewell.

War on the world—tally marks excel.

War on the devil—more rounds dispel—

but ground’s lost—strain’s a knell.

Mirror faced—saw the traitor’s cell,

architect of later pain, fell.

Fist met glass—shattered the faker’s shell.

Blood dripped crimson—maker’s bell

of my demise—self-made breaker’s spell

of dreams crushed—life-taker’s knell.

Self-loathing reigns—soul forsaker’s hell.

No redemption found—heartbreaker’s yell.

Doubt my heart’s strength—can it even propel?