...it's all in the days' work, so how do you get me outside
I been quaranteening myself against the strides to take my life
being a recluse as my way of life, to be in-touch with me
mighta' saved your life had the protocol to reach me not been breached
one minute and nineteen seconds left bringing you to the date
I was judged in the same way that I'm a' judge who b. in my way
if you accepted false peace, then martial law's your end result
around me though I perform my martial art to end these cults
now trump is ironically the trumpet bringing up easter
and church gatherings, funny how I don't get word from my people
about who I am, who I'd rather be is recognizable
so my cleansing's ironically downsizing your world's populous
the u.n. cannot demand shit 'cause my house was never their shed
or shelter, though their sneaker prints done tried to set foot on my steps
the staircase to He'll's paradox, shot down in an elevator
to meet face-to-face with satan's son to say it to his face it's
eternal war that I'm waging, you can't afford to make payments
but done ignored me 'til my corona's searing the staged pavements
ownership's to your own neglect, that's all you have left 'til you're dead
to face me flipped back to your death eternally, my practice hence...