i used to dream of gold chains and be an mc till i'm old and grey.
instead i wear a tie and fix computers all day.
in this dream i trusted everyone, and i was in the spotlight for the lifeline.
in real life people are vampires, and sole only exists in the nighttime.
time to spot my silhouette, tired of being the harbinger of bad news.
tired of paying rent, and i'm tired of paying dues.
and i'm tired of being polite, tired of not falling asleep.
and i'm tired of morons that say i'm too abstract or i'm too deep.
yeah i'm deep, deep in debt, deep in thought, falling off the deep end without a bungee.
'cause life is a circus and the girls on haight street are way too funky.
at times i feel like a martyr, a satire, a saddened pioneer.
with idle hands, idolizing every instrument i hear.
but i've got red hair, a fucked up beard, and an overgrown goatee.
been keeping it real, wearing the same clothes since 1993.
this world is an empty refrigerator, full of wasted skin.
so i maintain an empty stomach and magnets to place everywhere i've been.
but i can't understand why the world is covered with frost queens with blue eyes.
blazing is good, and we can be winners if we compromise.
i'm always complaining, these will be the days when i get older.
thanks to all the industry parties, now i've got cassingles to dub beats over.
overwhelmed at times, couldn't fit these songs in a cd box set.
signed rappers if you're so dope then why ain't you been dropped yet?
kids say it's all about battling, and bragging denotes masculinity.
freestyle means diddly, and cameos provide validity.
indy hip-hop is a joke, so for all purposes i'm leaving soon.
when fools call up and ask for the promo department, i'll connect you with the living room.
live it up, pour a brew, pull up a chair, let's politic or speak sparingly.
we can talk about rappers or discuss alien abduction conspiracies.
nonsense is fun, rhetorical conversations are amusing.
but when speech leaves book and enters free thought most find it confusing.
so smoke more weed, and read more novels and watch more cable.
and sole will still remain skeptical...

i talk a lot of shit but i can back it all the fuck up...

well it's day 4, sentence 6, and everything is clicking.
people are clicky, and talking in cliches too much, touche.
today i took a holy shower and washed away all my indecencies.
even sat in the sun to try to cook up the beast in me but it's still there,
eating away on my people skills.
but fuck it we can build when i'm not stressed out,
and play the field 'til i'm x'd out off every guest list, and put on every black list,
i guess that just means more names on the people i gotta diss list.
see i love everybody but i've run out of kind phrases.
so when i see you and act sarcastic take it personal.
and personally, i wanna play the horses but ain't got enough gambling ends.
i'd like to see the pigs but all of 'em got boyfriends.
we can be friends or arch rivals or we can share ideas,
or sip espressos until we both have diarrhea.
a lot of people are cool and some are less intellectual.
i like having a girlfriend and like 'em more when they're bisexual.
battle rhymes don't hurt people, battling aids isn't enjoyable.
but there's something about goth girls in short skirts i find delectable.
so come back to my shelter you horny little pale raccoon wearing three chains,
and i'll give you some more stupid sayings to put on your keychains.


i've grown to love stability, been anything but lethargic.
constantly increased abilities and found a soft spot for hardship.
discovered that enjoyable and happy are both relative terms.
and come to terms with the fact that while on earth all people are worms.
but hey, the early bird remains chasing the smog and acid rain.
actually, all acts of selfishness remain rested and mundane.
i enjoy simple things like computers and tropical fish,
and indy artsy women that succumb to my every wish.
since the devil's a misogynist i try to act like too short.
but if god was a bitch, i'd make it a point to pay my child support.
but since i don't have kids, i can simply act irresponsible,
buy a grip of useless shit and eat foods that are unpronounceable.
keep me unaccountable, 'cause counting my obstacles has been depressing.
and undressing prior notions for adolesent peers keeps me adding lessons.
do the math, simply, i'm the god and the earth (true).
being from maine has been a blessing and being bitter has been my curse.
the only cure, separate sole from the ills that spoil my surroundings.
we were raised in manure so it's only right that we be on our own shit, sure
since i ain't shit, and you're convinced to be it and all its elements.
take part in self-degradation when you're facing soleful eloquence.
you've got a lot of time to think, and thats not necessarily a bad thing.
just think of all the joys a bottle of windex, a pen and pad can bring.
i say think before you speak and think before everything you do.
or the next rhyme i write might be about you, son, you're shook.


Lyrics submitted by exact

Sole Has Issues song meanings
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