Behan the Scene
Built Upon
You think you know the ‘half’ of it? Well, you don't. Let's just say, I do what they can't; let's just say they built me upon lines they'd never cross if I hadn't been hovering in the cut. Let's talk about how I carry each and every one of them on my back; how I could just say “screw it” and collapse. I'm going to be as concrete as it gets when I say I hold [connections] together. I mean all confrontation when they pull that lever. I am man's creation. I take you to different places, and they say that I'm not leveled. When they know no one can save them if I weren't settled. At least they were careful with my foundation. But they have no patience when they're using me? It's you and me and oceans, seas, rivers, and lakes. You want to know what's deep? I got folks in automobiles; who can't pay the tolls, and this is where it gets real. They speak of burning our kind down because they have friends they want to drown, they have ends they don't want to meet.

They're pyromaniacs that want that heat; a bunch of hot heads all crossing me. They drilled pillars through the abyss of tossed secrets. These people forgot their lives at the bottom of a suction vacuum. They fear their own constructed executions—hold on, there's a hold up. The toll collector has a driver who seems burdened. The driver is showing an inkling—oh, now the toll collector is asking for for an I.D since the driver refuses to pay the toll. Of course, the I.D. doesn't look like the driver. The driver says, “I just want to get across this bridge, let me through”. The toll collector rejects his proposal, picking up the phone—until the driver bolts onward.

Maybe I'm not leveled. Maybe I don't have the decisions to make. Or maybe they cross these lines for a purpose just like the one I was built upon. 'Cause maybe the reason why their vehicle drove through the cement barrier, and injected them into their last flicker was because they wanted to burn every bridge that came with a toll. 'Cause maybe once they got across, they could leave their country; they could flee the state; they could set their past to flames. But maybe I'm exaggerating, and maybe they're not a family escaping a bottomless pit. But—if they were—they've found themselves in another. See, I was built upon death tolls.