I ain’t got no path, I’m a tram with no rail,

I ain’t got no path, I’m a tram with no rail, Just sittin’ in space where the angels inhale, Could step off right now, or I could bail, But the road’s got teeth and a wailin’ veil. Big Shan watches from the rail. 2. They say he’s slept with half the world’s sin, Shagged 'em through pain, tattooed to the skin, His jokes are stale but his reach gets in, To the ones who leave and don’t come in. He laughs like a backdoor hymn. 3. He moves like cheese through a tightwire block, Smiles like rain on a rusted lock, Can’t feed the world, but he’ll break the clock, Trade mice for gold in a one-seat dock. Sean’s got spirit in his sock. 4. We ride with ghosts in a dinky dink van, Full of crumbs and crumbs of man, South African spice with a breakfast plan, Brought me a roll with a trembling hand. Said, “You understand?” 5. He wanted two-five but sold it for less, Fresh from the clink with a dealer’s finesse, Heard my sermon mid-trap-line mess, Bought me a feed to relieve the stress. Said, “Your words, they bless.” 6. We absorb all the crap, then excrete divine, Make flowers from trauma, fertilizer in time, What’s thrown away becomes part of the line, Part of the chant, part of the climb. Sean’s garden grows in grime. 7. I ain’t holy, but I’ve seen grace fall, Through burnt-out pipes and prison walls, In bowls of rice and unanswered calls, From angels with burner phones and missed installs. Sean writes hymns on toilet stalls. 8. Directionless tram, no sign to chase, No heaven in sight, just Sean’s blank face, Still, I preach in this motionless place, Trappin’ gospels in a Wi-Fi trace. He knows the exit's laced. 9. There's a message in junk, a sermon in rust, A heartbeat hidden in lost man’s trust, If Sean says move, I move or bust, He’s got that shine, that drag, that dust. He dreams of those who must. 10. Not everyone makes it back on the flight, Some vanish in tunnels without light, Sean’s just waitin', day and night, Hands in the bowl, fixin’ phones with might. Callin’ back what’s right. 11. Van full of mice is a soul patrol, Cheddar’s the code, the contract scroll, They run the lines, they make you whole, And if you listen — they name your role. Sean’s voice is cold. 12. Twelve ten ticked and I threw my phone, Dry rice bowl and a cracked ringtone, The screen lit up with a single tone, And I knew that Sean was not alone. The trap became a throne. ---