Listen to me my son, you are called to teach;
Basically I’m asking you to crawl in deep;
But first, we’re gonna have to overhaul your speech;
To teach kids how to dwell in the halls of the meek.
What you give the youth will be transcendental;
All the wisdom you’ll attain, man it’s mental;
Plus it’s the true purpose that you meant fo;
Even the principalities of darkness can’t stop this bro.
Oh by the way, you gon have to do this blindfolded;
And you gon get all of the time scolded;
Ill give you no mentors, with the right path to signpost it;
Administration will fight your light, walk on a tightrope, kid.
Out of 100, first year teachers 99 times folded;
You too nice, too kind, you know yo kind’s roasted;
Detroit don’t want you, because yo light’s voltage;
Is too turned up for this dark city, hope you like growin.
What you sayin, God? Are you talkin to me?
You want me to spread love to children because this doctrine is free?
Are you aware that my depression, which is toxic, won’t flee?
Are you prepared to do the impossible thing?
Do you know that I’m scared, angry, and obnoxious to teens?
It feels like I just have too many problems to bring;
Swimmin in a sea of demons, will I drown and then sink?
And if I’m sinkin’, screamin’, will you pull me out from the brink?
I hear you sayin’ I’m a child of little faith;
That with a belief the size of a seed, lies would really break;
The war in yo head would stop, it would be forever great;
You could bring the kingdom shalom, that was never placed.
But I’m on the brink of killin’ myself, Ima call it suicide;
I guess livin’ fo God is really no choice, cuz it’s do or die;
We will find out who cuts themselves, and then who can fly;
If you can free yourself from death, you will teach truth and life.
Is this my fault or yours, Jordan? You can be so complacent;
We gon need to get new help for you, you need a new arrangement;
They’ll try to suppress the love of Christ, kept in a small containment;
So your call to be in blessing should be more than a mere occasion.
Halfway through the year, I know I’ve failed you, Lord;
Perceptions of love and truth have been impaled and torched;
I smell like smoke, I’m dyin quick, sailin toward;
The middle of the crazy storm, what you made me for?;
Am I gonna make it, Lord? Or is it simply too late to score?
Jordan, you know that you are poor in spirit;
You’ll be in heaven one day, ignore the fear, kid;
Chillin’ with yo man Deland, but before the cheer, it’s
Gonna be some hard times, your Lord is nearest.