Riddle of Life

[Akala: verse 1] Who can read the riddle of life It’s a tale told by an idiot, still we can't figure it Maybe the simplistic things That is where the wisdom is Freedom only has meaning if you know what a prison is All we see is differences, death don’t distinguish ‘em Flickering flame to the brightest light it extinguish ‘em Then its gone little spec gone forever The soil that covers bones decomposes whoever Whether you’re rich or you’re clever A buyer or seller could not trade what they made for another day even as a slave The heathen is made by believers enraged As a gauge to find a way, to deceive us in wage From the, screen to the page, to the wall of a cage I wonder if what we say Ever really has changed Because, we ain't got a clue from whom that we came But giving it names is one of the ways that we entertain [Hook : Ayanna Witter-Johnson] Deeper and deeper I go searching for something unknown Wander the road take my soul standing for something I love [Verse 2] Who can read the riddle of life I have wondered many times if Shakespeare was right And it signifies nothing Just that heaven’s bluffing But the jokes on us cos we discuss all this deeper stuff (?) Cos it all just eventually, turns into dust Must we change our disgust for the lust of depravity? And adjust our (?) cusp of reality I ain't sussed enough to give myself clarity But I do know enough not to trust any charity Cos the, language of death Is spoken, by a golden breath I know that I am golden but I am not hoping to be next Yes, I do cling to this vanity And I dip my pen in the ink of insanity When mind numbing disparity Passes as normality The comedy of history is we don’t see it’s a tragedy [Hook : Ayanna Witter-Johnson] [Verse 3] Who can read the riddle of life We ain't given equipment for recognising the signs So lines are unclear Trying to undo tears is near enough impossible We’re clung to fear The cost of letting go, is less than we know But still, it’s way more than we are willing to show So we cling harder, my mother and my father As if, they’re the only ones that gave birth to a child They say, life is a gift but I don’t know if it is Not because I’m pissed I literally don’t know what it is Are we spirits from another realm cast down into this world? Or just animals focused on how we feed ourselves Heaven or hell what’s the perspective? A strong desire to return to the source and we call it a death wish But maybe, they have just settled the riddle No beginning or end but there’s a life in the middle