Bring out the green guns for the green skies
I see pockets full of passion and greenwashing lies
What do they know, their hands never touch leaves
Confuse one with the other, they’re after the other kind of green
I’m a man who belongs in the company of trees
Idealism the way of life was so easy to see
See I believed it was possible, to change the world
Change hearts, win minds, save Earth, and save lives
I’ll buy slaves out of freedom
Solar panels on the White House
Wake the people up in cities
make the issues more pronounced
bring up the lesson and use my hands
Show the people the truth, that’s how I’ll own the brand
24 years of self-made discovery, self professed anxiety.
But you see the man sitting before you now is not the man I used to be.
And I’m afraid to say statistically, he wouldn’t have even considered heading to Miami.
He’s looking at you in Chaco’s thinking, “Oh, shit. Looka looka looka. That’s the enemy.”
Selling to the masses, dividing the classes
Pushin’ what the people don’t need
Right up their unsuspecting asses.
But life is not life, without a certain struggle
I think Hunter S. Thompson said that, from a mushroom peyote
to the decompression session
My bizarre mind overturned, so you can learn the lesson.
I’m a man of experience
Looking to move from change taker to maker
And In a past life I was hardcore Quaker
Appreciator of intricate simplicity
But above all else, just a communicator
A facilitator of the message
My words connecting, bisecting Earth and all of its inhabitants
With the power of the pen
I will shake foundations, bring illumination and make you wonder
Are we looking at reality – or one of Aaron’s fabrications?
I drink with magic and rinse with mystery
Collect useless trivia and slightly obsessed with Arab-Israel history.
I’m a member of the tribe, isn’t it apparent? But dislodge the stereotypes because there’s always enough to share it.
So where were we at Miami, in this closing diatribe?
My heads all scattered, but I bet that comes as no surprise.
It took a while, for it all to click
4 months in the desert will make the sticky things stick.
Now I realize now that I’m ready to go
Learn the tricks of the trade and get something to show
This – is not exploitation.
This – is the business of art and of persuasion.
Ideas. Fusion. Design. Creative. Blood. Sweat. Love.
Up all night thinking about Toothpaste and Sharpie’s pens
I’m ready for the mind to be flipped and filled
And all the shitty ideas I bring be mercilessly killed.
I’m no hero with an ego but looking to you for the lesson
And don’t click out just yet if you got an extra second.
When they asked “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
I never said advertising.
But this feels right, and not just at the time of writing.