Hell ya its cold out here within these trenches you hear , wild winds be blowing ,true colors steadily be shown, mind split from heart and soul , confusions shaking and plaguing shatterin ones mental state , times like these we could never be faulty or fake , reality is a bitch with a bad sick since of humor , controling a rain storm shit gona be unreal bet that, it will surely be a life or death situation you would be facin ,just sayin ,no time for motha fuckin pussy footen ,,mixin of words , miscommunication, Thats why now days ,the youth ,i just dont know , they seem to me to be the generation theroy , ive come to that conclusion me from a area of beat that baby like a build a bear , some times you was shocked about what you got hit with that was something you just had to deal with , sadly to say ,you delt with that shit in your own motha fuckin way , what did moma say ,stop bitchen and crying before i give you something to cry about , now thats some deeply mentally rooted shit cause about 80% of you all know what real shit i was talking about So noise to the motha fucking grindstone, down to the brass tax ,ten toes down, aint no energy for no slacking ass lacks Life lessons learned in those trenches ,true colors shown while behind enemy fences , The things at the time do and dont run through your mind at that time , but in the end ,it leaves you wonderin , there must be a stone cold meanin , to why im here ,so soldier hold fast ,because like in all things they two will pass