Old Idea New Head

What I’m talking about.
Get all of my shouting out.
Because your world don’t mean that much to me.
I mean it certainly.
At least it used to be.
Do I gotta die before I see.
What have I got to be?
Your destiny?
What’s inside of me?
I think I lost the key.
Is it human nature?
Or just a private white man’s club?
I’m finding harder to continue.
While the scum all rises to the top.
Some use their shotguns.
Who’ve seem to get their point across.
It’s like finding raindrops in a wind storm.
They’re always turning up a loss.
What have I got to be?
Your destiny?
What’s inside of me?
I think I lost the key.